Double Crossed
by Whatever Makes You Break
Summary: Delores Umbridge, meet your worst nightmares. Part III.
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

–

_This part of Winnie's story is dedicated **Tumblerose** and to **WhatsGoingOn **__for being two of my most loyal readers. I adore you both._

–

"So, Harry is coming tomorrow night?" I asked, sitting on the floor across from Sirius as he tossed several ferrets into Buckbeak's mouth.

"That's the plan," Sirius replied, throwing the final ferret into the Hippogriff's beak before pushing himself up against the wall of his late mother's bedroom that the beast occupied at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

"I wager you're excited," I stated, knowing the answer. I pulled my legs up against my chest, rolling my chin against the top of my kneecap. I flashed him a cheeky grin as I rocked my head back and forth.

"I'd be more excited if I was the one bringing him here," he replied, shooting Buckbeak an unaffected expression as the hippogriff sent his comrade a pout (or as close to a pout as an animal with a beak possibly could). Sirius shook his head to indicate his lack of food and a moment later Buckbeak released a disgruntled huff and curled up into a ball to pretend to sleep.

I'd grown rapidly close to Sirius in the short period of time I'd lived at the Number Twelve. He and I were very much alike. More than our similarities, I also enjoyed the tales from his youth because many of them involved my mother. Sirius had been my mum's first… well, everything really. He had been her first kiss, first sort of boyfriend, first mistake as Sirius stated. My mum had had three male suitors in her life: Sirius, my dad and Gideon. I never pressed him for information about my parents because I knew some things were for Sirius to keep in the back of his memory alone. I merely waited for him to recall a happy story to tell me when he felt the moment was right.

"I know what you're thinking," I said, hugging my knee even tighter, "and you can stop it right now."

"What am I thinking then, little Mick?" he smirked, humoring me.

"You think that because you are stuck inside that you are useless to the Order," I replied. "You are a complete git for thinking something so stupid."

"Am I now?"

"Yes," I insisted. "You offered the Headquarters. Without the Number Twelve then the Order would cease to exist, remember that."

"I will remember that while I rot away in my childhood home that I already did everything to escape once," he said, looking longingly out the small solitary window behind me. "I feel like I haunt this place, like I'm trapped here. At least you can leave."

"Where do I have to go, Sirius?" I inquired. "Everyone I care about is right here."

"Well, that boyfriend of yours for one," he said, sending me a confused expression.

"Right, him," I said, looking away.

"Ah, trouble in paradise?" asked Sirius, more anxious to change the subject than anything.

"Haven't you read the papers, my handsome flea-bitten friend?" I grinned, holding up my left hand and wiggling my fingers. "We're engaged."

–

_**A/N:**Winnie and Oliver engaged? WHAT? NO? This can't be, can it? Help me get 50+ reviews, and you'll get your answer ASAP. I'm bad, I know ;) && like I said, shout outs for the last chapter of Star Crossed and this prologue will return in Chapter One!_

–

_**Review.**_


	2. Chapter 1: The Leashed Libra

_**Chapter One**_

_The Leashed Libra_

–

_Nothing is more discouraging  
><em>_than unappreciated sarcasm._

–

"There is nothing on your finger but a bite mark," Sirius smirked.

"I know," I said in an intentionally loud and whiney voice, rubbing my wound. "George bit me yesterday when I tried to knick his licorice wand! What kind of person bites another human being, honestly?"

"Someone who really fancies licorice wands," said Sirius, smiling. "I take it your ickle boyfriend hasn't popped the question then?"

"If you ask _Witch__Weekly_ he has," I scowled, "but no he hasn't."

"And what would you say if he did ask you?"

"Absolutely not," I replied without a moment's hesitation.

Sirius laughed and gripped his stomach, "Just like your mum, you are, never one for marriage."

"I am far too young to even have marriage as an afterthought," I said. "I am only seventeen, just turned of age, for Merlin's sake. I couldn't imagine actually having to be a wife and– oh god, a mother. I can barely stand the thought of pushing seven pound, slime covered human carcass out of my–"

"Winnie, I still believe in the stork, and I would like to keep it that way," said Sirius, cringing at the thought. "Ugh, I am not going to be able to eat for a week."

"Well, rest assured, Padfoot," I grinned, "I have no intention of pushing anything out of me ever. I'm not one for children, and I don't know if I am even one for marriage."

"Don't you think your boyfriend is the one you should be telling this to?"

Unbeknownst to me until recently, I am apparently completely bat shit crazy (but utterly boring), unintelligent (yet a know-it-all), overzealous (but lazy), too loud (but too soft spoken), crude (but insufferably proper), basically I was the worst of both worlds. I could do nothing right. Well, at least Oliver Wood thought so. Everything was all sunshine and daisies when I first returned back from school. Oliver was his old self again, he and George were actually getting along somewhat, and it was like there had never been a rift between us. However, about a month into the summer holiday, Quidditch started up again and Quidditch Oliver returned. I didn't mind him practicing all the time, spending time with the team, always drawing up plays; I never complained once because it gave me more time with twins and our owl delivery business we had going on for Weasley Wizard Wheezes. What bothered me was when Oliver did want to spend time with me we could never be alone. We had to go to some event or to one of his teammate's home and talk about Quidditch or to something else that gave us little to no time to speak in private.

It was just a week before that Oliver and I had gotten into an enormous row all because I refused to attend some stupid alumni social for Puddlemere. I had run clean out of dresses to borrow from Ginny and Hermione, and I was sick of having to wear something he complained about anyhow. He would say that everything I wore looked to baggy and out of style, and I needed to purchase something new for each occasion. I proceeded to tell him to suck a wand. I wasn't going to go on much longer being miserable. Something needed to change. I had promised to attend the award ceremony for all of Quidditch the following weekend, but beyond that I didn't know. I didn't have the heart to stand him up when he was the front runner for the Rookie of the Year Award. Even though I was sore at him, that award was a very big deal to him and to everyone who loved the game, and I would suffer through being his date at one last award ceremony before I made my final decision whether or not I wanted to stick around or call it quits between us. I had more important things to worry about after all.

For the most part, we had been cooped up in the House of Black all summer long. The only reason I was allowed to leave was because it would cause too much suspicion with Oliver which had the potential to have a public backlash and so on and so forth. I had talked Fred and George into being allowed to come on a couple occasions, but I had still only had the sunlight hit my face no more than a dozen times in a month and a half. We grew frustrated with the cramped living conditions even more so because we kept being left in the dark. It was like living in the midst of some enormous secret that no one would tell. I knew Sirius wanted to fill us in on everything that was going on within the confines of the house, but I suppose he made a promise to Molly to keep his mouth closed.

The door opened slowly peeked open and revealed a pair of red heads, their hair quite a bit shorter and their stature a bit taller than the year before, "There you are."

"I think they're talking to you," Sirius smirked, nodding towards me.

"Actually we were looking for Buckbeak," said Fred, pushing the door all the way open and closing it behind George (who was lugging a messenger bag of new mail orders over one shoulder and June sitting on another). "What a complete and utter disappointment to find he already has company."

June looked exhausted, and I was far from pleased. She appeared frazzled and disgruntled from all the deliveries she'd been making lately. June fluttered down from George as soon as she saw me and nuzzled up against my neck. I affectionately petted her feathers and kissed the top of her little head. Fred and George joined our two person party, sprawling out our newest bag of inventions. Sirius was well aware of our secret business, and he was too much of a prankster and child at heart to tattle tale on us. We had just posted an ad in the _Prophet_ promoting out mail order business even though Molly would kill us if she found out. She had quit reading the _Daily__Prophet_ since they'd lost their minds, so we were in clear for now.

"I am serious about getting another owl," I said. "We can't count on June all the time. She's exhausted, and it's not fair to her. I also don't trust those dodgy school owls anymore. We should invest in another owl. We might as well get one now that we can get accustomed to for the future."

"Fine, fine," said Fred. "We can buy a new another one soon. I was thinking another minute owl. They're so bloody fast."

"That works for me," I agreed. "Let's try and guilt someone into taking us tomorrow."

"You want to join us, Padfoot?" asked George.

"Not funny, George," said Sirius coldly. "You know I wish I could."

"I was serious," said George.

"I thought he was Sirius," I said, pointing to Padfoot.

"That got old after the millionth time you made that joke," said George, "As I was saying, I had an idea recently–"

"_We_ had an idea recently," said Fred.

"_We_ had an idea," said George, glancing over at Fred with a smirk. "Well, Cassandra's dog, Leo, is the same sort of dog as well – you. If you agreed to wear a leash then I bet you could persuade Dumbledore to let you go. It wouldn't look the slightest bit suspicious then."

"We didn't know if you would be fond of the leash," said Fred quickly, "but it would still be an excuse for some fresh air. I reckon Cassandra wouldn't mind coming along. She'll be here since she stops by for lunch every Sunday anyhow. I bet Mum would be willing to go too, so she wouldn't have a panic attack about us leaving, if we told her Winnie needed to buy some new shoes are something stupid. It's just an idea…"

"It's a brilliant idea," said Sirius, grinning like I hadn't seen him smile in weeks. "I will speak to Dumbledore about it tonight."

I caught George's eye and I smiled thankfully at him.

–

"Do you think we'll run into Oliver tomorrow?" asked Fred, wrapping another Canary Cream into another package atop his twin bed. He had a pile of what looked like ten dozen mixed in with several dozen Ton-Tongue Toffees. We'd had so much success lately with our orders that we had barely been able to keep up.

"Maybe, he said he had to pick up some things in the Alley this week the last time we spoke," I whispered, trying to remain as quiet as possible, "and keep your voice down, will you?"

We had a pillow shoved in front of the crack under the door to block the light from escaping. I had propped my own pillows up under my covers in my bedroom across the hall and had Ginny on call in case Molly got suspicious in the middle of the night.

"We sound proofed the room, idiot," said Fred, "We are allowed to use magic now, remember?"

"The maternal powers of Molly Weasley know no bounds," I replied.

"She's got you there, mate," said George, smirking as he worked on a couple new trick wands on the floor.

The twins and I had gotten on so well since our Sixth Year came to a close it was unreal. I mean, we always were like three peas in a pod, but were like an oiled machine now. We were determined more than ever to start up our own shop and perfect our inventions and create more as well. George and I had been like our old selves together again. He had kept his promise to not make things awkward whilst Oliver and I were still… _us_. I appreciated it more than he knew. It also became increasingly difficult to deny my feelings much longer.

With me and George, we were always just Winnie and George. Even as things began to change over the past couple years between us there was still this sort of almost safe feeling we had because we always had something keeping us apart. As it became more obvious that things between Oliver and I had probably run its course, there was this insane built up tension between us that was ready to erupt. I started to notice how perfectly his hair sat on his head or how much I liked the way his mouth rose the slightest bit higher on one side when he smiled or how I had to look up at him when he talked. I suppose Fred was almost identical, but he just annoyed the bogies out of me.

"I wager Sirius will be anxious to get a good look at Wood," said Fred. "You know he's gotten pretty protective over you, and all he's had to go on are the occasional mentions in the gossip columns mixed in with the 'Harry is Crazy' articles."

"And those are so charming," I muttered, organizing some order forms into several folders. "I'm glad they've become so few and far between."

Since Cedric's death, the _Prophet_ was trying to make Harry (and Dumbledore for that matter) seem completely mad. That sort of consumed every news story besides all of the disappearances that no one seemed to find suspicious. I felt guilty for Harry taking all the heat for seeing Cedric's death when I experienced a vision on a slightly less vivid level. The gift of Sight was a delicate matter. I did not have nearly enough credentials to make an impact on anything. Now, if Cassandra had experienced some sort of crazy vision about You-Know-Who's Return a while ago and then this happened it would be a different story completely. However, any crackpot Seer could claim they saw something happen after it supposedly happened. The only good I could do was in private. I hoped in the future that whatever was going on within the house… with the Order, would ask me to help them use my ability in any way I could. Dumbledore and I had been pressuring Molly to give me the permission to help in the near future, but she was relentless.

I hadn't told Oliver anything since my vision during the Triwizard Cup. You want to know why? He never asked. Even when we were getting along, if I raised the topic of that night he would change the subject immediately. That made things a lot easier when Molly told me I was not allowed to tell Oliver anything about where we were or what we were doing. I don't know if he just didn't want to believe it, didn't care or was frightened or what it was, but the more I thought about it the more it bothered me. Sometimes I lie awake at night just fuming about it to be perfectly honest. He never outright denied the fact the You-Know-Who was back, but he never admitted that he believed it either. His indifference was infuriating.

"I'm sort of surprised Mum is letting us go," said Fred.

"I'm more surprised Dumbledore is letting Sirius go," I replied.

"A group of anything is less conspicuous than any singular solitary thing," said George. "Besides, Cassandra is infamous for always breeding those massive beasts. Leo isn't her first dog. I remember see a picture of her in one of our old Divination books with one of them I think it was named after another horoscope sign… I think it was Scorpio."

"Why George Weasley," I teased. "I always thought you only used your Divination book as a pillow, I never knew you actually read them."

"Who said anything about reading?" he smirked, "I just glanced at some of the pictures."

"Uh-huh," Fred laughed. "Don't pretend you didn't go to the library and stay up all night for two whole weeks just to read a dozen books about Seers right after we found out about Winnie's ability."

"H-He's joking," George blushed.

"I am," Fred admitted, "It must have been two dozen books. I think he knows a lot more than he lets on."

"No, I don't," he hissed.

I sent George a sideways glance.

"You really did that, George?" I asked.

He glared at Fred, his face red as a tomato.

"I read _a__few_books," he said, gritting his teeth. "I just wanted to be able to understand a bit more of what you were going through is all. Fred is exaggerating."

"You took notes," said Fred, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"I wrote down a couple facts I found interesting," he said, hurling a trick wand a Fred's head so hard that it exploded into a rubber chicken and knocked him clean off the bed and onto the floor in whirlwind of Ton-Tongue Taffies and Canary Creams. We couldn't help but laugh. I was glad the room had been sound proofed because we would have been murdered. I thought I was going to die from laughter. When we could all finally breathe again I looked over at George I engaged him again.

"Why didn't you ever tell me that before?" I asked George.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I didn't think you needed to know."

"I'm surprised Fred kept his mouth shut this long," I replied. "You know how he likes to meddle."

"I like to tease," he objected. "There is a _huge_ difference! I also believe in the very delicate practice of comedic timing which is something you have yet to master. It's all very scientific, you wouldn't understand."

"I'm sure," I said dryly.

"Anyway, that is very sweet, Georgie," I said genuinely. "I mean it. It's too bad Fred can't be as considerate as you."

"I may have read his cliff notes," said Fred.

"He read those books as soon as I was finished with them," said George finally. "Don't let him fool you."

"Shut up, George," said Fred.

"Aw, you two aren't as bad as they say after all," I smiled, propelling forward and knocking both of them over with my outstretched arms. I wrapped my arms around their necks and pulled them both close to place a big sloppy smooch on each of their cheeks. They both wiped my slobber away and cringed while they laughed. I rolled over on my back and repositioned myself so I still had my arms still wrapped behind both of their heads.

"Your armpits smell like a troll's backside," said George, still staring at the ceiling.

"See, Freddie, now _that_ is comedic timing," said Fred, reaching his outside arm over to meet his twin's in the middle to high-five square in the middle. "Good show, George."

"Idiots," I muttered.

–

Cassandra and I had been able to continue our lessons at the House of Black even though Molly refused to allow me to assist the Order. It was infuriating. Cassandra was a member now, however. She refused to hide this time around. She said that the she was not as useful as she could have been when she was younger come to find out. I guess a Seer's visions run few and far between as they grow older. She told me once that she was so old now that she assumed her next vision would be her last — the vision of her death. Our sessions grew shorter and shorter as time passed. She had taught me all she knew, and all I could do was wait for my powers to grow stronger. I had all the knowledge and ability to control my gift, but I had to just wait and see if I would grow to be a stronger Seer — if I could see further into the future than ever before. Because Cassandra and I had spent so little time with each other outside of the Number Twelve lately, she agreed to accompany the lot of us to Diagon Alley for the afternoon. I think she regretted it after she realized that entailed having to manage Sirius.

"I told you to stay close," Cassandra snapped at Sirius in her thick Bulgarian accent, "I don't want to pull on the leash again. You are worse than Leo."

"I wish I could buy three more and hook them on you lot," said Molly, only half joking as she glanced over at the three of us.

Sirius had been so excited to be granted a rare visit in the sunlight that he pranced about like a newborn pup. Leo was old and seemed annoyed to have to share a walk with someone with another dog with so much energy. The twins and I thought it was quite funny though Cassandra and Molly did not quite find it so. At least no one found it suspicious. If we saw anyone we knew, Sirius was on his best behavior and was overlooked or simply petted along with Leo. We told anyone who asked that his name was Libra, and we were looking to breed the two. He hated it. We loved it.

Come to find out, the only reason we were allowed to go on this little endeavor was because Molly wanted to buy everyone's school supplies all of her own kids as well as Harry and Hermione's. We were dragged along the entire way with our errand being the last thing on the to-do list. Cassandra was just along for the ride, shopping for little things she needed and growing more and more annoyed with Sirius who was just pleased to be away from the house.

"Can we go to Eeylops now?" asked Fred.

"I don't know why you two think you need an owl when you could easily borrow Winnie's, Ron's, Errol or one of the school's for the matter," said Molly. "It just seems like a waste of money that you don't have."

"We're sick of having to borrow, Mum," said George. "We've been borrowing owls all our lives. Errol is unreliable, Ron never wants to lend us Pig, June is worn out and the school's owls bite worse than Winnie."

"Oi!" I objected.

"Alright, let me finish picking up your robes–" said Molly. "Wait, why would June be worn out–"

"Mum, we will take Leo and _Libra_ and go get the bloody owl and meet you back at Madam Malkin in twenty minutes," said George in an exasperated tone, trying to change the subject. "I doubt we will be serial murdered in the time it takes us to check out at Eeylops."

"Absolutely not–"

"Molly dear, considering the circumstances I would agree with you," said Cassandra tentatively, "but they are all now of age. They have the ability to Apparate if danger presents itself, and I doubt it will in broad daylight. They will have some pretty intimidating friends along with them as well." Cassandra winked down at the two dogs.

Molly thought long and hard about her decision before releasing a heavy sigh.

"Twenty minutes," she replied begrudgingly and the three of us engulfed her in a hug, "And if you're late, I will kill you myself you."

"Deal," we said in unison as I grabbed both leashes from Cassandra and jogged off towards Eeylops.

Eeylops Owl Emporium was nothing special, but it was a haven to escape Molly's nagging and bargain shopping. In fact, the twins weren't happy at all to have to buy an owl, but if it mean we could get away for a while they would have spent our entire savings. The shopkeeper glared at us once he set eyes on our two fury friends. The owls became significantly louder at the sight of them, hooting and flapping their wings in a wild frenzy.

"Just pick one," said Fred, covering his ears.

George walked over to the minute owls and found a tiny white fluff ball in a cage, practically threw it at the shopkeeper along with a few galleons as we darted out the door in a record thirty seconds. It was a cute little thing, maybe even smaller than May. I cooed over it like a child to Fred and George's disgust.

"What should we name it?" ask George, ripping the pink sticker off the cage to signify its feminine gender.

"Let's see…" Fred thought aloud. "We have a May and June… I suppose we could do with an April. That's our birth month anyway."

"I like it," I smirked, tickling her tiny stomach through her cage bars.

"April it is," said George, "What do you think, Padfoot?"

He released a loud bark of approval.

"It looks like we have four stamps of approval," said Fred, "and speaking of stamps of approval… isn't that Oliver across the way? You wanted Padfoot to meet Oliver didn't you… or at least see him in person, right?"

Oliver was walking out of Twilfitt and Tatting's, wearing sunglasses and looking consumed with checking off items on a list in his hand. His outfit looked brand new and pristine, his hair newly styled. I should have been ashamed to even be seen with him. I was in tattered jeans, chucks I'd had for years and an old Chudley Canons t-shirt that was far too small with my hair in pigtails as usual. But I strode right up to him, leading Leo and Sirius with the twins in tow. He didn't even notice I was there for a minute or two.

"Winnie!" he exclaimed, leaning down and kissing me. He noticed my shirt at once and looked at me in a way that Molly used to give me when I forgot to clean my room. "I thought we talked about that shirt."

"We did," I said, gritting my teeth and trying to remain quiet enough for the boys not to hear, "and I told you it has sentimental value. Ron gave it to me for my thirteenth birthday. He saved up and–"

"I understand that, but I do not play for the Chudley Canons," he replied airily. "You must understand how your appearance could be misconstrued—"

"Right-o," I interrupted, trying to change the subject, "Anyways, so Oliver, these are my grandmother's dog's – Leo and Libra. We're taking them for a quick walk, would you want to join us? I haven't seen you since last Friday."

"Oh, I would love to, sweetheart, but I just have so much to do before Saturday," he replied in a way that sort of made me feel like his daughter instead of his girlfriend. I was also still bothered that he had yet to acknowledge Fred and George. "Oh, which reminds me – I bought your dress!"

"You – what?" I said with an upward inflection. "I figured I was just going to wear that dress I wore the Alumni dinner last month. I don't mind it that much. Hermione even said I can borrow it again and–"

"_The Prophet_ will be there, and you can't wear _that_ again," he said as if I just told him I was planning on wearing a burlap sack. "This could potentially be the biggest night of my life – of our lives, and I want everything to be perfect."

"Oliver–" I objected.

"It's no problem, sweetie," he smiled, tilting my chin up to meet his sunglass covered eyes. "I will send the dress and shoes to you and it even comes with a charm to tidy your hair and make-up."

"Marvelous," I said dryly. "What does this dress look like exactly?"

"It's a surprise, but I know you'll love it," he grinned. "It's something I know you would have picked out yourself."

"If you knew her at all you would know that Winnie would have never picked out a dress to begin with," said George from behind me. I elbowed him in the gut.

"Great," I replied in a less than enthused tone.

"Yeah, I just bought it," he went on. "Mrs. Cattermole is just grabbing the rest of the bags. Ah, here she comes."

Poor Mrs. Mary Cattermole fell through the front door of Twilfitt and Tatting's with her arms chock full of bags from several shops in Diagon Alley. She was sweating and out of breath, deep handle indentions on her arms from the heavy bags. Fred handed me the caged owl so he and George could take the bags off her hands. She heaved a heavy breath and thanked them tremendously. She fixed her hair and adjusted her dress, and I didn't even want to think about how long she had been lugging around those bags on her own. Oliver appeared unfazed.

"Gee, Wood, it would have been nice if you could lend her hand, wouldn't it?" said Fred in an unsettling tone.

"You can't expect me to risk another injury, can you?" said Oliver, laughing as if Fred had told a joke.

"Is he serious?" Fred whispered to his brother. George rolled his eyes.

"Thank you, boys, but I think we were just about to leave the Alley now anyway," said Mary. "We are going to drop off these bags and then run a few more errands, no worries. I have strong forearms."

"She's right," said Oliver, "I will see you on Saturday. Shall I pick you up at the Burrow?"

"No," I said quickly. "I will meet you at your flat."

"Alright," he nodded, kissing me quickly. "I'll see you then."

Oliver playfully ruffled the top of Sirius's head, and he released a deep growl that made Oliver regret even glancing at the beast. The twins begrudgingly gave back the plethora of bags to Mary before the pair proceeded to Apparate before our eyes. George took the owl cage from my hand so I could hold a leash in either of my hands again.

"What an asshole," said Fred.

"Fred–" I began.

"That's all I'm going to say," he said, holding his hands in the air as Sirius barked in agreement. "Let's go find Mum before she skins all of us alive."

–

"I like her," said Fred, flicking several seeds across the wooden floor so April could gobble them up.

"It looks like June is jealous," George laughed as May flew down from the window and nudged the little brown owl out of the way to snatch up the seeds.

"June!" I scolded, grabbing some more seed and returning it to April.

"They'll get used to each other," said Fred, "May hated Crookshanks in the beginning, but she loves him now."

"Yes, a bit too much if you ask me," I replied. "They're inseparable."

"Aw, is Freddie jealous her cat is spending too much time with another cat?" George teased.

"Bugger off," I laughed, throwing seed in his face and making a mess on the floor for the hungry owls to eat up.

We were waiting for Harry and the others to return to the Number Twelve and killing time by adjusting April to her new surroundings. She was getting on fine besides June's occasional fits of jealous rage.

"So you're not sore at me for making you buy another owl anymore?" I smiled.

"We're always sore at you for something," Fred joked. "But I think we will need more than one owl to keep up with these orders."

"I was glad Sirius got to go with us too," said George.

"Even though he ranted about how much of a selfish ass Oliver for three hours after we got home," said Fred.

"Yes, that got old about ten seconds in," I replied. "He seemed to take a page out of Percy's book of things nobody wants to hear."

Percy was still a sore subject throughout the entire house. He had gotten into an end all fight with Molly and Arthur and chose the Ministry over us. Molly was hysterical. Arthur was too upset to speak for a week afterwards. Everyone else was so shocked that we didn't know what to do. Somehow I was voted to console Molly after the whole ordeal which baffled me to no end, but I spent the whole evening trying to get her to stop crying by stammering like a buffoon. I guess she appreciated the effort more than anything though because ever since she has introduced me as her daughter to any new person we have met instead of just Winnie McKinnon. Molly always loved and treated me as her daughter, but I think she always thought I might be uncomfortable with her claiming me as her own. I wasn't, and I think she finally realized it.

"I wish we _could_ hear what that meeting is going to be about downstairs," said George.

"We could give it another go," said Fred, grabbing another Extendable Ear from under his bed.

Suddenly, loud indistinguishable yelling could be heard down the hall. Though the words could not be understood I recognized the voice at once. It was Harry. I smiled and looked over at the twins.

"Oh, he sounds like he's in good spirits," said Fred, "Shall we go cheer him up?"

We decided to Apparate. It only seemed fitting.

"Hello, Harry," said George, beaming at him. "We thought we heard your dulcet tones."

"You don't want to bottle up your anger like that, Harry, let it all out," said Fred, also beaming.

"There might be a couple of people fifty miles away who didn't hear you," I replied.

"You two passed your Apparation tests, then?" asked Harry grumpily.

"With distinction," said Fred, puffing out his chest. Harry looked at the Extendable Ear in his hand with a bewildered stare.

"It would have taken you about thirty seconds longer to walk down the stairs," said Ron.

"Time is Galleons, little brother" said Fred. "Anyway, Harry, you're interfering with reception."

"He's referring to the Extendable Ears," I added in response to Harry's raised eyebrows, and held up the string which Harry now saw was trailing out on to the landing. "We were going to try to hear what's going on downstairs."

"You want to be careful," said Ron, staring at the Ear, "if Mum sees one of them again…"

"It's worth the risk, that's a major meeting they're having," said Fred.

The door opened and a long mane of red hair appeared.

"Oh, hello, Harry!" said Ginny, brightly. "I thought I heard your voice."

"That's just Ginger Snap's polite way of saying, 'I thought I heard you screaming down the hall ten minutes ago, Harry, but I thought I'd wait a bit for you to cool off before I welcomed you back,'" I teased. Ginny stuck her tongue out at me, and I returned the gesture.

Turning to Fred and George, she said, "It's no-go with the Extendable Ears, she's gone and put

an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door."

"How d'you know?" said George, looking crestfallen.

"Tonks told me how to find out," said Ginny. "You just chuck stuff at the door and if it can't make contact the door's been Imperturbed. I've been flicking Dungbombs at it from the top of the stairs and they just soar away from it, so there's no way the Extendable Ears will be able to get under the gap."

Fred heaved a deep sigh.

"Shame," he sighed again. "I really fancied finding out what old Snape's been up to."

"Snape!" said Harry quickly. "Is he here?"

"Yeah," said George, carefully closing the door and sitting down on one of the beds; Fred and Ginny followed. "He's giving a report, top secret."

"Git," said Fred idly.

"He's on our side now," said Hermione reprovingly. "Winnie trusts him too."

Ron snorted. "It doesn't stop him from being a git. The way he looks at us when he sees us."

"Bill doesn't like him, either," said Ginny, as though that settled the matter.

"Bill hates everyone who doesn't worship him," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Oh, so you like Snape now?" George retorted.

"Absolutely not," I snapped, "but just because I don't like someone as a person doesn't mean I think they don't have honorable intentions."

"Is Bill here?" Harry asked. "I thought he was working in Egypt?"

"He applied for a desk job so he could come home and work for the Order," said Fred. "He says

he misses the tombs, but;" he smirked, "there are compensations."

"What d'you mean?"

"Remember old Fleur Delacour?" said George. "She's got a job at Gringotts to eempwve 'er Eeenglish -"

"And Bill's been giving her a lot of private lessons," sniggered Fred.

"Charlie's in the Order, too," I said, "but he's still in Romania. Dumbledore wants as many foreign wizards brought in as possible, so Charlie's trying to make contacts on his days off."

"Couldn't Percy do that?" Harry asked.

"Whatever you do, don't mention Percy in front of Mum and Dad," Ron told Harry in a tense

voice.

"Why not?"

"Because every time Percy's name's mentioned, Dad breaks whatever he's holding and Mum

starts crying," Fred said.

"It's been awful," said Ginny sadly.

"I think we're well shut of him," said George, with an uncharacteristically ugly look on his face.

"What's happened?" Harry said.

"Percy and Dad had a row," said Fred.

"If that isn't the understatement of the century," I muttered. "It was terrible. He and Arthur really got into it–Arthur has never been the one to shout, you know."

"Yeah, it's always been Mum who yells," said Ginny.

"So none of us had seen Dad in a row with anyone like that," said Ron. "It was the first week back after term ended," said Ron. "We were about to come and join the Order. Percy came home and told us he'd been promoted."

"You're kidding?" said Harry.

"Yeah, we were all surprised," said George, "because Percy got into a load of trouble about Crouch, there was an inquiry and everything. They said Percy ought to have realized Crouch was off his rocker and informed a superior. But you know Percy, Crouch left him in charge, he wasn't going to complain."

"So how come they promoted him?"

"That's exactly what we wondered," said Ron, who seemed very keen to keep a normal conversation going now that Harry had stopped yelling from what I could tell. "He came home really pleased with himself – even more pleased than usual, if you can imagine that – and told Dad he'd been offered a position in Fudge's own office. A really good one for someone only a year out of Hogwarts: Junior Assistant to the Minister. He expected Dad to be all impressed, I think."

"Only Dad wasn't," said Fred grimly.

"Why not?" said Harry.

"Well, apparently Fudge has been storming round the Ministry checking that nobody's having any contact with Dumbledore," said George.

"Dumbledore's name is mud with the Ministry these days, see," said Fred. "They all think he's just making trouble saying You-Know-Who's back."

"Dad says Fudge has made it clear that anyone who's in league with Dumbledore can clear out their desks," said George.

"Trouble is, Fudge has to at least suspect Dad is friendly with Dumbledore," said Fred. "He really has to after all, Winnie is basically his daughter and we all witnessed her make her allegiances known pretty clear to Fudge himself, the night of Cedric's death. Besides, he's always thought Dad's a bit of a weirdo because of his Muggle obsession."

"I would say I would probably have been able to control my anger if I would have known the trouble it caused, but I don't know if that's true," I admitted.

"But what's that got to do with Percy?" asked Harry, confused.

"I'm coming to that. Dad reckons Fudge only wants Percy in his office because he wants to use him to spy on the family – and Dumbledore."

Harry let out a low whistle.

"Bet Percy loved that."

Ron laughed in a hollow sort of way.

"He went completely berserk," I said, "I mean, he lost his head. He three Molly's tea set across the room – shattered it into a million pieces."

"And then he said – well, he said loads of terrible stuff," said Ginny, "I–It was awful. I can't even repeat it. Ron, you do it."

"She's right, it was awful," said Ron. "He said he's been having to struggle against Dad's lousy reputation ever since he joined the Ministry and that Dad's got no ambition and that's why we've always been – you know – not had a lot of money, I mean–"

"What?" said Harry in disbelief, as Ginny made a noise like an angry cat.

"I know," said Ron in a low voice. "And it got worse. He said Dad was an idiot to run around with Dumbledore, that Dumbledore was heading for big trouble and Dad was going to go down with him, and that he – Percy –knew where his loyalty lay and it was with the Ministry. And if Mum and Dad were going to become traitors to the Ministry he was going to make sure everyone knew he didn't belong to our family any more. And he packed his bags the same night and left. He's living here in London now."

"Molly has been in shambles," I frowned. "She's been crying at the drop of a hat. She went to try and talk to Percy in London. He slammed the door square in her faces. She bawled her eyes out the whole night afterwards."

"I dunno what he does if he meets Dad at work," said George.

"–Ignores him, I s'pose," said Fred.

"But Percy must know Voldemort's back," said Harry slowly. "He's not stupid, he must know your mum and dad wouldn't risk everything without proof."

"Yeah, well, your name got dragged into the row," said Ron, shooting Harry a furtive look.

"Don't feel bad, Harry," I smirked sadly, "you weren't the only one. Yours truly was mentioned, too."

"Percy said the only evidence was your word and Winnie's… I dunno… he didn't think it was good enough."

"But he knows Winnie is a Seer, and whenever she had a vision, he cared enough to report it back to–"

"_Dumbledore_ – exactly," I nodded. "If he is stupid enough to believe Dumbledore is a loon then why would he trust me?"

"Because he grew up with you, and loves you," said Ginny.

"You would think that, wouldn't you?" I said with a bitter taste on my tongue.

"I also think Percy takes the Daily Prophet seriously," said Hermione tartly.

Harry, Ron and Hermione proceeded to get into a heated conversation about the recent articles about Harry that we had no interest in involving ourselves in. Harry was in a dreadful mood, and we had no intention of being on the receiving end of his rage. A few minutes later the meeting let out, Tonks knocked over the bloody umbrella stand again.

"Tonks!" cried Molly in exasperation, turning to look behind her.

"I'm sorry!" wailed Tonks, who was lying flat on the floor. "It's that stupid umbrella stand, that's the second time I've tripped over–"

But the rest of her words were drowned by a horrible, ear-splitting, blood-curdling screech. The moth-eaten velvet curtains hiding Walburga Black began to flap about from her shouting again. The old woman was drooling, her eyes were rolling, the yellowing skin of her face stretched taut as she screamed; and all along the hall behind us, the other portraits awoke and began to yell, too – _again_. Remus and Molly darted forward and tried to tug the curtains shut over the old bag, but they would not close and she screeched louder than ever, brandishing clawed hands as though trying to tear at their faces.

"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, whores, be gone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers–"

Tonks apologized over and over again, dragging the huge, heavy troll's leg back off the floor; Molly abandoned he attempt to close the curtains and hurried up and down the hall, stunning all the other portraits with her wand; and Sirius came charging out of a door facing us. The flaps kept flying around as he ran from the end of the hall. Walburga spotted me again and pointed.

"YOU! Sniveling whore of treacherous scum!" she bellowed at me.

"We have established that she thinks I am my mother," I said nonchalantly to a shell-shocked looking Harry as if that was going to check off every question on his undoubtedly lengthy list.

"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!" Sirius roared, seizing the curtain Molly had abandoned. The old woman's face blanched.

"Yoooou!" she howled, her eyes popping at the sight of the man. "Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my own flesh!"

"I said – shut – UP!" roared the man, and with a stupendous effort he and Lupin managed to force the curtains closed again.

The old woman's screeches died and an echoing silence fell. Panting slightly and sweeping his long dark hair out of his eyes, Sirius turned to face us.

"Hello, Harry," he said grimly, "I see you've met my mother."

"Your–?"

"My dear old mum, yeah," said Sirius. "We've been trying to get her down for a month but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas. Let's get downstairs, quick, before they all wake up again."

–

It was always scarcely less gloomy than the hall above, a cavernous room with rough stone walls. We followed Sirius, leading Harry, to where most of the light was coming from a large fire at the far end of the room. A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air like battle fumes (most likely thanks to Dung), through which loomed the menacing shapes of heavy iron pots and pans hanging from the dark ceiling. Many chairs were crammed into the room for the meeting and a long wooden table stood in the middle of them, littered with rolls of parchment, goblets, empty wine bottles, and a heap of rags. Arthur and Bill were talking quietly with their heads together at the end of the table.

Molly cleared her throat. Arthur quickly looked around and jumped to his feet. Then the next five minutes proceeded to be a sea of pleasant welcome backs and some introductions to Harry followed by Tonks offering to help Molly finish dinner. I never thought Molly could come as close as she did to turning down help. Soon, a series of heavy knives were chopping meat and vegetables of their own accord, supervised of course, while Molly stirred a cauldron dangling over the fire and the others took out plates, more goblets and food from the pantry. After taking my plate, I went to take my usual seat at the end of the table and wait for the boys to catch up.

Mundungus Fletcher had pulled my chair out for me as he did every evening he ate dinner with us. I stood there while he patiently waited for me to take my seat.

"Piss off, Dung," I spat.

"Winnie, watch you language!" Arthur reprimanded.

"But he only pulls my chair out, so he has an excuse to touch my bum when I sit down!" I retorted.

"Oh, piss of then, Dung," said Arthur crudely, glaring at him and nodding his head at him to leave me be. The twins smirked at their father's witty response from across the room. I did too.

"Fred – George – NO, JUST CARRY THEM!" Molly shrieked suddenly.

Harry, Sirius and Mundungus looked round and, a split second later, they had to dive away from the table. Fred and George had bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of Butterbeer and a heavy wooden readboard, complete with knife, to hurtle through the air towards them. The stew skidded the length of the table and came to a halt just before the end, leaving a long black burn on the wooden surface; the flagon of Butterbeer fell with a crash, spilling its contents everywhere; the bread knife slipped off the board and landed, point down and quivering ominously, exactly where Sirius's right hand had been seconds before. I was laughing so hard that I was whipping away tears.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" screamed Molly. "THERE WAS NO NEED – I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS – JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW, YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" said Fred, hurrying forward to wrench the bread knife out of the table.

"Sorry, Sirius, mate – didn't mean to–"

Harry and Sirius were both laughing; Mundungus, who had toppled backwards off his chair, was swearing as he got to his feet.

"Oh, Dung," I said in faux sympathetic voice. "Do you need help with your chair?"

"Piss off, Winnie," he muttered.

"Mundungus, watch your language!" Molly hissed.

I snickered in return.

"Boys," Arthur said, lifting the stew back into the middle of the table, "your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you've come of age–"

"None of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!" Molly raged at the twins as she slammed a fresh flagon of Butterbeer on to the table, and spilling almost as much again. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't charm everything he met! Percy–"

She stopped dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her husband, whose expression was suddenly wooden.

"So… this stew looks great, Molls," I said quickly. "Let's tuck in."

"It looks wonderful, Molly," said Lupin, ladling stew on to a plate for her and handing it across the table.

For a few minutes there was silence but for the chink of plates and cutlery and the scraping of chairs as everyone settled down to their food. Then Molly turned to Sirius.

"I've been meaning to tell you, Sirius, there's something trapped in that writing desk in the drawing room, it keeps rattling and shaking. Of course, it could just be a Boggart, but I thought we ought to ask Alastor to have a look at it before we let it out."

"Whatever you like," said Sirius indifferently.

"The curtains in there are full of Doxys, too," Molly went on. "I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow."

"I look forward to it," said Sirius. I heard the sarcasm in his voice, and by the look on Harry's face, I could tell he could as well, but I was not sure that anyone else did.

It didn't take long for Harry to feel the depression that engulfed Sirius Black. You couldn't blame him. He was trapped in the place he escaped as a child, his living hell, only to return after escaping Azkaban a couple years before. Sometimes I wondered if he would prefer Azkaban to the House of Black. I never had the nerve to ask him though. He sort of haunted the place, his spirit sucked into the building and his body drifting through the halls like a lost being. I had hoped that maybe when Harry returned that his spirits would be a bit lifted. However, his dull mood at the dinner table did little to convince me.

"We can help with that," said abruptly before I could take it back.

Fred and George sent me scathing glares.

"Really?" said Molly with an upward inflection.

"Uh, sure," I replied. "Right, Fred? Right, George?"

"Right…" they replied begrudgingly, kicking me under the table.

"Thank you," she smiled before returning to her intense conversation about goblins.

"Yes, thanks, Freddie," said George in a sarcastic tone.

"Why did you volunteer us for that?" Fred snapped.

"She would have made us do it anyway," I whispered, "and I can tell Sirius is really down. I want to try and get him out of doing any monotonous work."

"By making us more," said George, rolling his eyes.

"Aw, you're smarter than you look," I said dryly, reaching over and pinching his cheek. "But not smart enough to realize we can also use some of that Doxy venom for our Skiving Snackboxes."

Three helpings of rhubarb crumble and custard later and we were all feeling comfortably stuffed. As the final spoons were set down there was a lull in the general conversation: Arthur was leaning back in his chair, looking replete and relaxed; Tonks was yawning widely, her nose now back to normal; and Ginny who had lured May from dozing lazily atop the sofa, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rolling Butterbeer corks for her to chase.

"Nearly time for bed, I think," said Molly with a yawn.

"Not just yet, Molly" said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."

The atmosphere in the room changed with the rapidity only to be associated with the arrival of Dementors. Where seconds before it had been sleepily relaxed, it was now alert, even tense. A frisson had gone around the table at the mention of Voldemort's name. Lupin, who had been about to take a sip of wine, lowered his goblet slowly, looking wary.

"I did!" said Harry indignantly. "I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we're not allowed in the Order, so–

"

"Bets on how long Mum can go without her head exploding?" said George in a hushed tone.

"Five minutes," said Fred, quietly sliding a sickle on the table.

"Ten," said George, doing the same.

"I think she can make it fifteen," I said.

"Oh, a risk taker," George smirked.

"And they're quite right," Molly retorted. "You're too young."

She was sitting bolt upright in her chair, her fists clenched on its arms, every trace of drowsiness gone.

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?" asked Sirius.

"Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen—"

"Hang on!" interrupted George loudly.

"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" said Fred angrily.

"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!" said George.

"'You're too young, you're not in the Order'," said Fred in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his mother's. "Harry's not even of age!"

"It's complete bullocks actually!" I objected loudly. "We've been fighting all summer about you refusing to let me in the Order when I can bloody well HELP! But Harry has been here for an hour and now all the sudden it's an open book?"

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing," said Sirius calmly, "that's your parents' decision. Which means I think Winnie and Harry, on the other hand should—"

That comment did not bode well with Molly or Arthur or any Weasley in that room, but no one seemed to find the words to reply. It was sort of like Sirius was sticking up for me, but it a way that I didn't appreciate. Molly's face looked extremely broken as she opened her mouth to speak; however, I cut her off to speak first.

"I am of age, so I do think it should be my decision," I replied calmly, and all eyes were on me, "but if the decision rests in the hands of my parents then that means it rests with Molly and Arthur. But regardless to whether or not we are members, we live in the Headquarters whether we like it or not, and we deserve to know what's going on!"

Molly and Arthur exchanged a meaningful look before they returned to conversation.

"And as for Harry, it's not down to you to decide what's good for him!" said Molly sharply. The expression on her previously adorning kind face looked dangerous. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

"Which bit?" Sirius asked politely, but with the air of a man readying himself for a fight.

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know," said Molly, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words.

Ron, Hermione, Fred and George and I swiveled from Sirius to Molly as though we were following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned Butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth lightly open. Lupin's eyes were fixed on Sirius.

"I don't intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly," said Sirius. "But as he was the one who was there when Voldemort come back" (again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name) "he has more right than most to—"

"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!" said Mrs. Weasley. "He's only fifteen and if that means you've been telling Winnie things just because she saw—"

"And he's dealt with as much as most in the Order," said Sirius, "and more than some — and no I have not."

"No one's denying what he's done!" said Molly, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. "But he's still—"

"He's not a child!" said Sirius impatiently. "None of them are children! Quit acting like they are still on the bottle!"

"He's not an adult either!" said Molly, the color rising in her cheeks. "He's not James, Sirius!"

"Oh, shite," I muttered under my breath, covering my breath and slinking down in my chair. It was like watching a boxing match, each blow was lower than the next.

"I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly," said Sirius coldly.

"I'm not sure you are!" said Molly. "Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!"

"What's wrong with that?" said Harry.

"What's wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him!" said Molly, her eyes still boring into Sirius. "Sirius thinks that it is just some sort of huge class reunion again, and he needs to grow up!"

"I most certainly do not!" Sirius objected.

"Of course you do," she shouted. "Don't think I don't know the only reason you spend all your time with Winnie is because she looks and acts just like her mother — your old flame. You like Fred and George because you think they are Gideon and Fabian all over again. And now Harry is here, and I know it will only get worse. You are going to be wrapped up in this fantasy world of yours and—"

"I spend time with them because I appreciate their humor and talents, and I don't treat them like they are worthless, childish foul-ups like you do," Sirius sneered.

"How dare you?" Molly bellowed. "I do not treat them like that! I don't even think anything of the sort!"

"Could have fooled me," he said in an icy tone.

"So back to Harry…" said Fred, extending a flat palm towards a stunned looking Harry.

"My point in all of this was that you are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!" said Molly. I could tell she was moving on so she didn't have to address the latter subject again.

"Meaning I'm an irresponsible adult?" demanded Sirius, his voice rising.

"Meaning you have been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and—"

"We'll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!" said Sirius loudly.

"Arthur!" said Molly, rounding on her husband. "Arthur, back me up!"

Arthur did not speak at once. He took off his glasses and cleaned them slowly on his robes, not looking at his wife. Only when he had replaced them carefully on his nose did he reply.

"Dumbledore knows the position has changed, Molly. He accepts that Harry will have to be filled in, to a certain extent, now that he is staying at Headquarters."

"Yes, but there's a difference between that and inviting him to ask whatever he likes!"

"Personally," said Lupin quietly, looking away from Sirius at last, as Molly turned quickly to him, hopeful that finally she was about to get an ally, "I think it better that Harry gets the facts not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture — from us, rather than a garbled version from… others."

His expression was mild, but Harry felt sure Lupin, at least, knew that some Extendable Ears had survived Molly purge.

"Well," said Molly, breathing deeply and looking around the table for support that did not come, "well… I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has Harry's best interests at heart—"

"He's not your son," said Sirius quietly.

"He's as good as," said Molly fiercely. "Who else has he got?"

"He's got me!"

"Yes," said Molly, her lip curling, "the thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?"

"Jesus, Mum!" Fred and George exclaimed in unison. She was tossing out insults left and right.

Sirius started to rise from his chair.

"Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry," said Lupin sharply.

"Sirius, for Merlin's sake, sit down," I snapped. "We get it, everybody loves everybody. Now sit the hell down."

"Winnie — language!" bellowed Molly.

"Seriously?" I pouted.

Molly's lower lip was trembling. Sirius sank slowly back into his chair, his face white.

"I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this," Lupin continued, "he's old enough to decide for himself."

"I want to know what's been going on," Harry said at once.

"Very well," said Molly, her voice cracking. "Ginny — Ron — Hermione — Winnie — Fred — George — I want you out of this kitchen, now."

"Not bloody likely!" George shouted.

There was instant uproar.

"We're of age!" Fred and George bellowed together.

"If Harry's allowed, why can't I?" shouted Ron.

"Mum, I want to hear!" wailed Ginny.

"NO!" shouted Molly, standing up, her eyes over bright. "I absolutely forbid—"

"Molly, you can't stop Fred, Winnie or George," said Arthur wearily. "They are of age."

"They're still at school."

"But they're legally adults now," said Arthur, in the same tired voice. "And Dumbledore is on the verge of pressuring you to allow Winnie to help the Order sooner than later, so you might as well."

Molly was now scarlet in the face.

"I — oh, all right then, Winnie, Fred and George can stay, but Ron—"

"Harry'll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!" said Ron hotly. "Won't — won't you?" he added uncertainly, meeting Harry's eyes.

"Course I will," Harry said.

Ron and Hermione beamed.

"Fine!" shouted Molly. "Fine! Ginny — BED!"

George and I begrudgingly pushed our sickles into Fred's hands. Five minutes was the closest estimate before Molly lost her cool considering she lost her head about 30 seconds in.

"Fill you in later, Ginger Snap," I shouted as she left, and Molly was too upset to even respond.

Ginny did not go quietly either. We could hear her raging and storming at Molly all the way up the stairs, and when she reached the hall Mrs. Blacks ear-splitting shrieks were added to the din. Lupin hurried off to the portrait to restore calm. It was only after he had returned, closing the kitchen door behind him and taking his seat at the table again, that Sirius spoke.

"Okay, Harry… what do you want to know?"

"Where's Voldemort?" he said, ignoring the renewed shudders and winces at the name from the lot of us. "What's he doing? I've been trying to watch the Muggle news, and there hasn't been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything."

"That's because there haven't been any funny deaths yet," said Sirius, "not as far as we know, anyway… and we know quite a lot."

"More than he thinks we do, anyway," said Lupin.

"How come he's stopped killing people?" Harry asked.

"Because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself," said Sirius. "It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn't come off quite the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up."

"Or rather, you messed it up for him," said Lupin, with a satisfied smile.

"How?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"You weren't supposed to survive!" said Sirius. "Nobody apart from his Death Eaters was supposed to know he'd come back. But you survived to bear witness."

"And the very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore," said Lupin. "And you made sure Dumbledore knew at once."

"How has that helped?" Harry asked.

"Are you kidding?" said Bill incredulously. "Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever scared of!"

"Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix about an hour after Voldemort returned," said Sirius.

"So, what's the Order been doing?" said Harry, looking around at us all.

"Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans," said Sirius.

"How d'you know what his plans are?" Harry asked quickly.

"Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea,' said Lupin, "and Dumbledore's shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate."

"So what does Dumbledore reckon he's planning?"

"Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again," said Sirius. "In the old days he had huge numbers at his command: witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one of the groups he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters."

"So you're trying to stop him getting more followers?"

"We're doing our best," said Lupin.

"How?"

"Well, the main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who really has returned, to put them on their guard," said Bill. "It's proving tricky, though."

"Why?"

"Because of the Ministry's attitude," said Tonks. "You saw Cornelius Fudge after You-Know-Who came back, Harry. Well, he hasn't shifted his position at all. He's absolutely refusing to believe it's happened."

"But why?" said Harry desperately. "Why's he being so stupid? If Dumbledore—"

"Ah, well, you've put your finger on the problem," said Athur with a wry smile. "Dumbledore."

"Fudge is frightened of him, you see," said Tonks sadly.

"Frightened of Dumbledore?" said Harry incredulously.

"Frightened of what he's up to," said Arthur. "Fudge thinks Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister for Magic."

"But Dumbledore doesn't want—"

"He should really be looking out for Percy," Fred muttered.

"Of course he doesn't," said Arthur. "He's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he's never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job."

"Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is — a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice," said Lupin. "But it seems he's become fond of power, and much more confident. He loves being Minister for Magic and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it."

"How can he think that?" said Harry angrily. "How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up — that I'd make it all up? Wait a minute! Winnie, he heard you admit you had a vision. You're a Seer—"

"Harry, did you know I had vision that you, Hermione and Viktor Krum were really involved in a love triangle last year during the tournament?" I replied. Ron and Hermione both shifted awkwardly in their seats.

"No, that's crazy," he replied defensively.

"Exactly," I said.

"Who is going to believe me if I confess a vision I had after something happened?" I replied. "It would be so easy for me to lie. We know that I am telling the truth, and I know too many intricate and personal details for my story to be falsified, but no one else could possible know that. If I had had my prediction a day before and warned someone somehow then perhaps your claim would have been more credible — or better yet it could have been prevented. If someone wanted to try and make any lie true they could just have a Seer say they saw it."

"But Fudge was there," said Harry indignantly. "He saw us. He had to have known we weren't lying. Why—"

"Because accepting that Voldemort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen years," said Sirius bitterly. "Fudge just can't bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilize him."

"You see the problem," said Lupin. "While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they really don't want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's rumor-mongering, so most of the wizarding community are completely unaware any things happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse."

"But you're telling people, aren't you?" said Harry, looking around at Arthur, Sirius, Bill, Mundungus, Lupin and Tonks. "You're letting people know he's back?"

They all smiled humorlessly.

"Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mad mass-murderer and the Ministry's put a ten thousand Galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?" said Sirius restlessly.

"And I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community," said Lupin. "It's an occupational hazard of being a werewolf."

"Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off," said Sirius, "and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them."

"We've managed to convince a couple of people, though," said Arthur, "Tonks here, for one — she's too young to have been in the Order of the Phoenix last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage — Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset, too; he's in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet."

"But if none of you are putting the news out that Voldemorts back—" Harry began.

"Who said none of us are putting the news out?" said Sirius. "Why d'you think Dumbledore's in such trouble?"

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked.

"They're trying to discredit him," said Lupin. "Didn't you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true; he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemorts return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot — that's the Wizard High Court — and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too."

"But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog Cards," said Bill, grinning.

"It's no laughing matter," said Arthur sharply. "If he carries on defying the Ministry like this he could end up in Azkaban, and the last thing we want is to have Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to he's going to go cautiously. If Dumbledore's out of the way — well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field."

"But if Voldemort's trying to recruit more Death Eaters it's bound to get out that he's come back, isn't it?" asked Harry desperately.

"Voldemort doesn't march up to people's houses and bang on their front doors, Harry," said Sirius. "He tricks, jinxes and blackmails them. He's well-practiced at operating in secret. In any case, gathering followers is only one thing he's interested in. He's got other plans too, plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed, and he's concentrating on those for the moment.'

"What's he after apart from followers?" Harry asked swiftly. Sirius and Lupin exchanged the most fleeting of looks before Sirius answered. "Stuff he can only get by stealth. Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."

"When he was powerful before?"

"Yes."

"Like what kind of weapon?" said Harry. "Something worse than the Avada Kedavra—?"

"That's enough, I think."

Molly spoke from the shadows beside the door. We hadn't noticed her return from taking Ginny upstairs. Her arms were crossed and she looked drained.

"I want you in bed, now. All of you," she added, looking around at all of us.

"You can't make—" Fred began.

"Fred — enough," said Molly in a tone that made his mouth slam shut. She was trembling slightly as she looked at Sirius. "You've given Harry plenty of information. Anymore and you might just as well induct him into the Order straightaway."

"Why not?" said Harry quickly. "I'll join, I want to join, I want to fight."

"No."

It was not Molly who spoke this time, but Lupin.

"The Order is comprised only of overage wizards," he said. "Wizards who have left school," he added, as Fred, George and I opened our mouths. "There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you… I think Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough."

Sirius half-shrugged but did not argue. Molly beckoned imperiously to her sons, me and Hermione. One by one we stood up and Harry, recognizing defeat as well, followed suit. At the top of the stairs, Molly pulled the twins and me aside for one quick second and lowered her voice as the others entered their rooms.

"When Sirius said all that, back there, about me treating you like— like _that_," she said softly. "You don't really think I believe that, do you?"

"Uh, how you act and what you think might be two very different things," George smirked, trying to appease his mother as Fred and I shrugged.

"Well, I don't think that," she insisted. "I don't, and it breaks my heart to know that you honestly think that. I only want the best for you three, and I know I am harder on you than the rest. That is just because I see so much potential in you, and I don't want it wasted."

"Mum, you can't keep treating us like we're children," said Fred. "If we foul up then that is our fault. You can't keep trying to prevent every mistake we might make. Ease up, _please_."

"You keep pushing us into these Ministry-type career paths, these safe and steady lives," I went on, "but we don't want that. You think our inventions and jokes are nothing but silly wastes of time, but they aren't Molly. If you would just trust us for once we can prove to you that even though we don't excel in a whole lot of things, you can't deny that we are experts in humor and jokes."

"So even though you may think destroying or taking away our inventions is better for us in the long run, it really isn't," said George. "We work really hard on those, and they take a lot of effort to create. It is actually sort of insulting when you treat them like rubbish because frankly, they're not. Loads of people love what we make, what we can do even if you don't."

"We plan on opening a shop, and we know you think it's stupid, and we're wasting our time," said Fred. "But we've invested more research, time and money in our idea than you can even begin to imagine. We know what Sirius said really hurt, but it's nice to be around him because he listens to our ideas and doesn't think what we're doing is—"

"—stupid—" said George.

"—or a waste of time—" I added.

"When it comes down to it, Moll," I sighed. "We are adults now, and we are going to have our own joke shop someday very soon. It is going to happen whether you like it or not."

"So you can keep purging our Extendable Ears, Canary Creams, Trick Wands and anything else we come up with," said George.

"But there will always be more," said Fred. "We're not giving up on our dream."

"You taught us that," said George.

Molly had tears in her eyes. It was probably from everything that had happened during the past hour. She blinked a couple times, allowing her tears to fall freely down her cheeks. She abruptly yanked us all into a group hug, crushing our bones while she plastered sloppy kisses on us like mad.

"I love you three no matter what, and I will always be proud of you," she cried. "You hear me? No matter where you go, no matter what you do, no matter who you become — I will love you _no__matter__what_."

"You still hate the joke shop idea, don't you, mum?" said George, smirking.

"Of course I do, dear," she sniffled, kissing our cheeks again.

–

_**MUAH HAHAHAHA I GOT YOU!**_

_**A/N:** Oh, how disappointed I am in you all;) I would never write one of those fics where the main character gets engaged in school. I hate that. It's a pet peeve of mine. Some people can write it well, don't get me wrong, but it's rare. Winnie is totally not the type. I loved all the comments of "NOO! OMG!" I love you guys. I was cracking up. I have been going through a real rough patch in my life lately, and I can honestly say that writing has continued to be a great outlet for my immense stress. I've just been so super depressed lately, but when I write it just all sort of fades away. I thank all of you for your kind words and support. Thanks again:) Also, I promised I would update quicker if I reached 50 reviews. Well, here we are. I hope you guys liked that I sort of went back to the trio dynamic than the sobby junk it has been lately. It will remain like this mostly from now on. This was sort of a catch up chapter, so you guys knew what things had been like and where they seem to be going. I know it was sort of stilted, but for a first chapter I thought it was alright. Any questions or suggestions just let me know. If you guys help me reach 100 reviews on chapter 2 I will die of excitement and update super soon again with any luck;)_

_**BEWARE:** I know this had a lot of book quotes, but I promise there won't be too terribly more from now on. I find I always have a lot in the beginning because it is all catch-up type junk that is nothing new. Please, don't complain. I know I do it at times. I am trying to not be as bad at it. I try to go along with book as closely as possible because I get so annoyed when people jump around and leave things out, and my ultimate price is adding in too much from the book. I suck at it. I am trying to get better at it. I promise. I just struggle with summarizing important conversations. I know it sucks some of the excitement out of it. I hope it doesn't ruin the story=/_

_**PS:** Check out my trailers on YouTube. Just search "Winnie McKinnon" and my new username is "TopoftheGList"! Let me know what you think=) _

_**PSS:** Search MonBon1128 on flickr! WhatsGoingOn made some awesome banners for this fic that are worth seeing! She is so talented! Thanks again, doll face=)_

_**Reading Suggestions:** Weasleys at War by Tumblerose, Epiphanies and Ginger Boys by Virginia Wolfe, and anything by lyin' or FredFanatic._

_**BTW:** Does anyone know of any good Fred/OC or George/OC fics out there right now by the way? I don't want to read any stories where they fight over a girl (because I don't think they ever would) or any fics with Sues. Let me know=)_

_**Coming Soon:** The epic conclusion of the Oliver/Winnie/George triangle, boggarts and doxies, Dumbledore gives Winnie a cryptic warning and a new tutor, chaos and hilarity undoubtedly ensue…_

–

**THANKSGIVING THANK YOUS**

–

_A very special holiday thank you for reviewing to all of these special people:_

_**DragonWand, Ryadai, The Wedding Planner's Daughter, DesireOFfantasy, 690, quidditchandsonicscrewdrivers, spannieren, tonidepp16, PhoenixRage92, Angel2u, Harper Granger-Weasley, LexVictoriaX, Shadowrunner240, Nestling, MissyMiss, QueenieBeanie, WinnieandGeorge4Ever, AshleyT, FredsLastLaugh, FiddleDeeDee, DragonWand, pridenprejudice, Gyardian, better-off-believing, AkaMizu-chan, Anon, random reader, FallingThroughTheWind, aliben, LoverPR-SN-HP, Namida-Kaida, ForgeandGred4Ever, Ieva, Marisa1698, Takara Matsdaira, ASDFGHJKL, l o c c l a i r e, swear-on-the-moon, MikeHimura, Charlie167, Deanykins, Blonde Pickle Mule, harlequincabaret, tonidepp16, purpleCHEEZ, kmkm89, JEM-99, shopoholic06, GreyLionDiva, ElephantsandTeacups, NightFury808, LilyMelany, and .heaRt** _

_**Poison Ice**: I loved your review! Thank you so much! That means so very much to me! I was cracking up! I will get back to you about the reading thing because I may need you! I am so glad you are enjoying the fic so far, and I hope you continue to follow it in the future! I appreciate the feedback more than you know=)_

_**Singing-The-Travels**: FYI. Your review in particular brought a smile to face=) Thanks for reviewing!_

_**Tumblerose**: Thanks for tagging me in that facebook article the other day. I loved it. I read it like 3 times! Anywho, I hope promoting your fic on here is OK. I just started reading it, and I'm hooked. I'm on Chapter 3, so I'm going to go back and review every chapter once I'm finished. I can't wait to incorporate Verity in this fic too! I'm still working on the audio chapters, but I haven't heard a lot of support for it so far… so we shall see. I haven't given up yet! Anyways, thanks for reviewing, love=)_

_**WhatsGoingOn**: All I have to say to you is… YOU ARE AMAZING. For real, there is nothing else I can really say in that respect. You really are. On a random subject, what color is your hair, what color are your eyes and is your hair straight or curly? You will see why…;) I have been planning something for a very long time!_

_**HarutaYari**: I completely agree with you. I think you will like this story a lot more once the next chapter is complete. Not much romantic drama and more plot drama. Haha. Sound good?_

_**imAddicted.2myipod**: You right on the money, honey! She wouldn't think of it! No need to buy that black dress now=) Thanks for the review!_

–

_**Review.**_


	3. Chapter 2: The Closeted Boggart

_**Chapter Two**_

_The Closeted Boggart_

–

_Alas, by the time Fate caught up with Life,  
>Chance had it all planned. <em>

–

"He's not that bad," I said in an apathetic tone, sliding a pawn across the chess board I currently shared with Ron.

Sirius sat on the sofa behind me, beside Harry and Hermione. Fred and George had woken up later than me for once and were currently hogging the toilet, fighting over who got to shower last. I had been persuaded into playing a game of Wizarding Chess against Ron (who was admittedly brilliant at it). I was willing to do anything to battle my extreme bouts of boredom. I was mildly hoping to see another brawl between Molly and Sirius again, but they'd been pretending as if everything was just marvelous between them ever since what Molly referred to as a "small disagreement between friends."

Sirius had been relentlessly teasing me about Oliver ever since he had met him at Diagon Alley. I was growing tired of his constant pestering, and his awareness to my irritation did nothing to dissuade him from continuing his insufferable rants.

"Not that bad, she says," said Sirius, elbowing Harry in jest. "I swear he was wearing foundation. What sort of bloke cares that much about how he looks?"

"You're being unnecessarily mean," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Yeah, Padfoot," said Ron, smiling coyly as his piece mutilated my knight, "a light base can do wonders to illuminate that healthy glow no matter your gender."

Harry snorted abruptly while Hermione smirked slightly, hiding her face deeper behind her enormous textbook. Sirius roared with laughter, approving of Ron's sardonic comment.

"First of all, my boyfriend does not wear make-up," I frowned. "Second of all, I don't know how you know that odd cosmetic fact Ronald, but I am starting to suspect that your sexuality is what's been hiding in that drawing room closet instead of a boggart."

Harry began laughing so hard from behind me that I thought his stomach was going to burst. Even Hermione giggled slightly at his expense. Ron's face turned bright pink as he slaughtered another one of my pawns.

"What's keeping Fred and George?" Ron muttered. "I wish they'd hurry up and take you off our hands."

"Oh, bugger off, Ron, you've been nagging me to play a match of chess with you all week," I sighed. "Don't get your knickers up in a bunch just because I've brought your deep-seated homosexual tendencies to the forefront of the conversation."

Ron suddenly shot up and stomped off towards the other room. He looked back and raised his eyebrows to gesture for Harry and Hermione to join in his horrendous storm off. Harry begrudgingly took to his feet and gripped Hermione's elbow to lead her off with them. Neither Harry or Hermione looked pleased to follow after Ron considering Harry was still fighting off a laugh.

"So you know, I'm counting this as a forfeit," I called after him.

"He certainly looked furious with you," said Sirius indifferently, listening as several words I shan't repeat were shouted in the distance.

"That tends to happen," I yawned, putting away the chess game. "He'll get over it soon enough. I've said much nastier things to him than that."

"Yeah, he's like you in that sense," said Sirius, pretending to be fascinated with his fingernail cleanliness.

"How's that?" I replied, taking to my feet and sliding the chess board into the trunk across the room before returning to the comfortable armchair diagonal from Sirius.

"You know, easily forgiving incidents of cruelty," he said. "I watched you do it recently with your boyfriend. And I understand it that those sorts of incidents happen more often than not according to George."

"Why is George talking to you about my relationship behind my back?" I snapped. "It's no one's business, I'm handling it."

"Not very well as it seems," said Sirius, unwilling to back down.

"What does it matter to you?"

"Because I care about you, and I want to see you happy, and I'm not the only one," he added, and I knew exactly what he was implying. "You're better off without him."

"Coming from the man who has met Oliver once," I said.

"One time too many if you ask me," he teased.

"I didn't," I sneered.

"Why have you been putting up with this shit all this time?" asked Sirius.

I rolled my eyes, repositioning myself in my chair so my legs hung over one arm and my head rested on another.

"It wasn't always like this," I said regretfully. "Things were great for a long time – the entire first year we dated in fact. I loved him; we were in love – completely. I was happy, he was happy and it was all rainbows and sunshine. Then Oliver graduated and got his dream job, and at first I was pleased and all with his success. He was doing well and happy with what he had always wanted to do. Then as the season began, he grew busy and found less time for me. I was selfish and immature because I was jealous that I was no longer a top priority, but I now see where he was coming from. Things started spiraling downward and just when I thought our relationship had run its course – he got hurt, and I realized that I wouldn't know what to do with myself if something happened to him. He recovered and things were great again – for a while, but now… it's worse than ever. I can't blame him completely for this imploding relationship of ours, and I think I've been clinging to what we were instead of realizing what we've become. I am just holding out hope that his old self will come back for good."

"Well, grow-up," said Sirius suddenly, causing me to jerk my head to meet his frustrated expression. "This isn't complicated. It's fine if you're brokenhearted about what's happened between the two of you, but it's obvious that things are over between you. Open your eyes. It's no one's fault but it's up to you to fix this. Take charge of your life and your happiness, take back everything he ever took away from you."

"Excuse me if I'm hesitant to take advice from someone who has successfully avoided monogamy like the plague," I sighed.

"Hey, I really cared about your mum," he said. "She was as good as my girlfriend for years, so I know what I'm talking about."

"And you broke things off with her because she made you miserable too, then?" I said in a condescending tone, "and by 'broke things off' I mean, stopped sleeping together – because I'm sure that was the extent of your relationship."

"It was more than just that, thank you very much. And no, she broke things off with me for the same reason you should break things off with your boyfriend," said Sirius, "Well, that and because I think she had feelings for someone else. I'm sure you know who I mean."

Actually, I didn't. It was between Gideon and my Dad. I didn't know who, and I didn't need or want to.

"Whatever," I shrugged. "I'm going to tell him how I've been feeling about our relationship, so we can make an adult conclusion to whether we want to continue being together or cutting our losses. He must feel the tension between us too. It's suffocating."

"How utterly mature of you," said Sirius, tickling my dangling bare foot with his fingers. I laughed and kicked his arm.

"Winnie?" Molly interrupted, striding into the living room and shooting Sirius an almost threatening look when he saw the two of us. "I need you in the drawing room with the others. I need all the help I can get to rid the house of these Doxys. I also found a nest of Puffskins under the sofa this morning, so who knows what other creatures we'll come across."

"Alright, Mol," I sighed, regretting my previous offer to help. Sirius rose to follow after but Molly shot him a glare.

"We'll manage, Sirius," she said in an icy tone. "Thank you."

"You just said that you needed all the help you can get," he replied coolly.

"And I've gotten all the help I need," she said. "_Thank you_."

He begrudgingly fell back onto the couch, yanking out a thick book of Muggle motorbikes off the coffee table so hard that several glass coasters flew onto the floor ans shattered. I sent him an unnoticed fleeting gaze back over my shoulder.

"Why couldn't Sirius help too?" I asked, trailing after Molly into the drawing room.

"I don't like you two spending so much time together," said Molly.

"And why is that?" I asked.

"I'm not having this conversation now," she replied, entering the drawing room before me and avoiding the subject.

The drawing room was a long, high-ceiling room on the first floor with olive green walls covered in dirty

tapestries. The carpet exhaled little clouds of dust every time someone put their foot on it and the long, moss green velvet curtains were buzzing as though swarming with invisible bees. Ginny, Hermione, Harry and the twins already had tied a cloth over their nose and mouth. Each of them was also holding a large bottle of black liquid with a nozzle at the end. Molly handed me the items she had already given the others.

"Morning, I see you showered," I teased the twins who still had damp red locks, "However, I don't _smell_ that you showered."

"I wish we were exterminating you," said Fred, squirting my bum with the Doxy spray.

"Now that's not very nice," I pretended to pout.

"Shut it," George jested, spraying my other butt cheek. "We're always nice."

"Stop wasting the spray," Molly barked.

"We're only trying to get rid of a big pest of all, Mum," said George, pinching my cheek.

"Oh, just cover your faces and take a spray – the Doxys, Fred!" Molly said to Fred the moment she saw him, pointing his two more bottles of black liquid at my bum. "You lot, you need to be more careful, because Doxys bite and their teeth are poisonous. I've got a bottle of antidote here, but I'd rather nobody needed it. I'm looking at you three." She nodded towards the twins and I. "All right - squirt!"

Everyone began to spray like mad as the numerous Doxys soared about.

"George, what are you doing?" said Molly sharply. "Spray that at once and throw it away!"

George was holding a struggling Doxy between his forefinger and thumb. "Right-o,' George said brightly, spraying the Doxy quickly in the face so that it fainted.

"This venom is just what we need for the Skiving Snackboxes," I said, draining the venom from another Doxy.

"You best keep your voices down before Mum hears you," Ron hissed, looking over at us in disbelief.

"I heard them, Ron," said Molly, keeping her attention on a Doxy hovering before her face. "It's alright."

"What the–" Ron started.

"I wouldn't finish that sentiment if I were you, Ronald Weasley," Molly snapped.

"Yes'm," said Ron quickly, swallowing his tongue.

The de-Doxying of the curtains took most of the morning. It was past midday when Molly finally removed her protective scarf and sank into a sagging armchair. The curtains were no longer buzzing; they hung limp and damp from the intensive spraying. At the foot of them unconscious Doxys lay crammed in the bucket beside a bowl of their black eggs, at which Crookshanks and May were now sniffing.

The clanging doorbell rang. Everyone looked at Molly.

"Stay here," she said firmly as Mrs. Black's screeches started up again from down below. "I'll bring up some sandwiches."

She left the room, closing the door carefully behind her. At once, all of us dashed over to the window to look down on the doorstep. We could see the top of an unkempt gingery head and a stack of precariously balanced cauldrons. It was Dung, carrying a stack of undoubtedly stolen cauldrons, and Molly instantly started screeching at him as loud as Mrs. Black. Fred, George and the trio tried to peek their heads into the hall to ogle the scene downstairs.

"Fred, close the door, all this screaming is giving me a headache," I sighed, collapsing into the armchair Molly had just occupied. Fred made to shut the door to drown the noise, but before he could do so, Kreacher edged into the room.

The hideous, old elf took absolutely no notice of us. Acting as though he could not see us, he shuffled hunchbacked, slowly and doggedly, towards the far end of the room, all the while muttering under his breath in a hoarse, deep voice like a bullfrog's.

"… smells like a drain and a criminal to boot, but she's no better, nasty old blood traitor with her brats and strays messing up my mistress's house, oh, my poor mistress, if she knew, if she knew the scum they've let into her house, what would she say to old Kreacher, oh, the shame of it, Mudbloods and werewolves and traitors and thieves, poor old Kreacher, what can he do…"

"Hello, Kreacher," said Fred very loudly, closing the door with a snap.

The house-elf froze in his tracks, stopped muttering, and gave a very pronounced and very unconvincing start of surprise.

"Kreacher did not see young master," he said, turning around and bowing to Fred. Still facing the carpet, he added, perfectly audibly, "Nasty little brat of a blood traitor it is."

"Sorry?" said George. "Didn't catch that last bit."

"Kreacher said nothing," said the elf, with a second bow to George, adding in a clear undertone, "and there's its twin, unnatural little beasts they are."

"You know, Kreacher, you really shouldn't sugarcoat what you think of us," I sneered. "Go on and tell us how you really feel."

"Oh, Kreacher does not know what mistress means," he replied most unconvincingly before muttering again. "Mangy bastard of blood traitors."

The twins made threatening motions towards the ugly elf that made him flinch slightly which was exactly what they wanted out of him.

Kreacher straightened up, eyeing us all malevolently, and apparently convinced that we could not hear him as he continued to mutter.

"What do you want, anyway?" George asked.

Kreacher's huge eyes darted towards George.

"Kreacher is cleaning," he said evasively.

"A likely story," said a voice behind the twins.

Sirius had showed up; he was glowering at Kreacher from the doorway. The noise in the hall had abated; perhaps Molly and Dung had moved their argument down into the kitchen. At the sight of Sirius, Kreacher flung himself into a ridiculously low bow that flattened his snout-like nose on the floor.

"Stand up straight," said Sirius impatiently. "And get out. Now. You're not cleaning."

Kreacher did not dare disobey a direct order; nevertheless, the look he gave Sirius as he shuffled out past him was full of deepest loathing and he muttered all the way out of the room.

"Keep muttering and I will chop off your head and hang it upon the wall with the others!" said Sirius irritably as he slammed the door shut on Kreacher. "No, he'd probably find that to be the highest honor... I'll just chop it off."

"Sirius, he's not right in the head," Hermione pleaded, "I don't think he realizes we can hear him. If you could just set him free then maybe–"

"I am not having this conversation again, Hermione," said Sirius curtly. "And anyway, I didn't come in here to talk about that repulsive mongrel. I came here to give Winnie her special delivery."

"Delivery?" I said with an upward inflection.

Sirius (who had been holding his hands casually behind his back) pulled his hand forward to reveal a box with a red bow tied around it for decoration.

"It's from your boyfriend," said Sirius in teasing manner. "Shall we have a peek?"

"I already know what it is," I frowned. "That stupid, ruddy awards ceremony is tonight, and he took it upon himself to prepare my outfit for the grand affair."

"How considerate of him," said George under his breath. "Maybe he'll win 'Gentleman of the Year' tonight as well."

–

"I'm so excited to see what he picked out," Ginny squealed, leaping onto her stomach upon her twin bed between mine and Hermione's. "I bet it was expensive."

I'd been coerced into examining my outfit for the evening by Ginny and Hermione just an hour before I was supposed to meet Oliver at his flat. I was not looking forward to wearing yet another dress, and I hoped Oliver was right when he said I would like it. I was already less than enthused to attend this awards gala or whatever it was for the evening, and I just prayed I would at least be comfortable while I was there. I was about seventy-five percent positive that things were over with Oliver, and I intended on telling him how I was feeling when I saw him that night. I just needed to find the words to explain to him what I was thinking without him having a fit.

"It doesn't matter how much it cost," said Hermione, cradling Crookshanks in her arms as she sat upon her twin bed. May leapt up to lounge beside Ginny who instantly began scratching her furry stomach. "It just matters that she likes it. I'm sure you will, Winnie, I bet it's lovely."

"Well, quit stalling, let's see then," said Ginny anxiously.

I pulled back the ribbon and opened the box and pulled back the tissue paper without a moment's hesitation. My eyes widened as I carefully pulled the dress Oliver had picked for me. I held it before Ginny and Hermione who looked more shocked than I did.

"It looks like a leather gym sock with the toes cut off," I said slowly, now holding it between my thumb and index finger as if it were a piece of waste.

"Where's the rest of it?" said Ginny, only half-joking.

The dress, if that's what you want to call it, that Oliver had bought me was barely a dress at all. It was so short I was convinced it had to be meant to be a skirt. It was coal black and made of leather that would undoubtedly act as a corset. It was so small that I wasn't even sure how I was going to manage to fit my tiny frame inside it. It also came with matching heels higher than I had ever seen and a tiny package that contained some sort of unknown beauty charm with attached directions. Apparently, Oliver thought I would like dressing like a street walker.

"Maybe it'll look less... er– _revealing_ once you have it on," said Hermione with uncertainty.

"Do you think it'll look less leathery too, 'mione?" I smirked.

"Well, maybe it'll just look better on you in general," said Ginny, cringing at the sight of my expression.

"I'll put the ruddy thing on," I sighed begrudgingly. "I'll be down in a bit."

"I doubt Mum will even let you out of the house wearing that thing," asked Ginny.

I smiled slyly, "I'm counting on it."

Ginny and Hermione went downstairs to leave me to change. It took me 20 minutes to even pull up the skin tight dress to my waist and another 10 minutes to full it over my chest. I was miserable in the ruddy thing without even having been in it yet. When I had pulled open the box that concealed the charm to do my make-up and hair for the night it exploded into a cloud of powder that made my face look like a raccoon. My eyes were coated in thick black liner and shadow. With y hair now teased into straightened oblivion. I was so humiliated. I stood before the mirror upon the duvet, trying to collect myself. I take that back. What stood before the mirror was not me. I looked like some sort of trollop, trying my damnedest to make some sort of sexy impression. It was pathetic. I motioned to zip up the back of my dress in the most awkward of ways to no avail, trying to reach over my shoulder and from behind my back to reach the tiny zipper.

"Here, let me help," a familiar voice said, startling me slightly.

It was George, closing the door quietly behind him. He smiled softly at me, not mocking my appearance at all, though I was convinced he wanted to. Hell, I wanted to.

"Get out, George," I mumbled, turning back to the mirror. "I don't want you to see me like this."

"Suck in," he said, firmly gripping my zipper and ignoring my prior sentiment. I did as I was told and sucked in as much as could. With one abrupt jolt, George jerked the zipper all the way up and managed to fit me into the dress. I couldn't breathe, mind you, and I looked so small it was ridiculous but I still fit inside of it.

"Thanks," I gasped.

"We might have to cut you out of it later," he smiled crookedly, scratching the back of his neck and laughing a bit awkwardly.

I nodded because I was still trying to figure out how to breathe in the suffocating dress. I pressed my palms against my abdomens and tried to steady my breaths again. I waited for George to rip into my ridiculous outfit, but he stood in silence and just stared at me unnervingly.

"Well, let's hear it," I said finally, turning about so hastily in the heels that I stumbled slightly.

"You can barely walk in your trainers," George chucked, helping me stand upright again. "Best of luck in those neck snappers."

I laughed at my own expense along with him, "I actually considered wearing my Converse, but I bloody well ripped them this morning running up the stairs."

"Those things were as old as time," said George, "at least you have an excuse to get some new ones now."

"I suppose," I shrugged, "but you know how hard it is to get into Muggle show stores and buy them, especially now."

"Yeah," he said apathetically, looking sideways at my discarded Converse shoes atop my comforter.

It was quiet again, and I cleared my throat. George didn't er– check me out like I half expect him to. He looked at my face. I smiled weakly at him.

"I thought you would have at least made a dozen insults to my appearance by now," I smirked. "I take it that's why you're in here – Ginny tip you off, did she?"

"No, I just wanted to see how things were coming along," he shrugged.

"So you think I look good then?" I said in disbelief.

"No," he said quickly.

"Thanks," I replied sarcastically.

"Hold on, I didn't mean it like that," he said indignantly.

"How did you mean it then?"

"You look– you look... well, hot," he said awkwardly, and I punched his shoulder so hard I swear I cracked a bone. "Ouch, damn it! Hot isn't a good thing. I don't like it."

"Ha," I scoffed, "most blokes would beg to differ."

"I'm not most blokes," he replied and paused a moment before continuing. "You want to know when I thought you looked the _hottest _or the prettiest I have ever seen you, Freddie?"

"Sure, George," I said, believing him to be pulling my leg.

"It was a few summers ago when Mum and Dad went to visit Charlie in Romania, remember?" he said.

"Yeah," I said slowly, "Ginny caught the flu for half of it and even though Percy was in charge he refused to go anywhere near her, bloody git."

"Exactly, you do remember," George smiled. "Well, it was then – that week that I saw you look more beautiful than I had ever seen you."

I looked at him as if he was completely off his rocker.

"What are you talking about?" I replied. "I spent most of the time at Ginny's bedside, covered in vomit and a mixture of other repulsive bodily discharges."

"I know," he smirked. "Ginny had just projectile vomited some lime green concoction onto your face, hair and jumper, completely missing the bowl you had been holding out for her. Fred and I walked in with the ginger ale you asked for, and you looked up at me with this sort of adorable pathetic look before bursting into a fit of laughter before getting up to clean yourself off. That was the best you have ever looked in my eyes."

"You sap," I grinned, pinching his cheek.

"Shut up, it's true," he laughed, pulling away.

It was quiet then, silent and uncomfortable between us. He had become so handsome just over the past few years. He was still taller than a giraffe and skinner than a beanpole, but he'd outgrown a lot of his gangly and clumsy limbs. His face had become more mature though still youthful and fitting for his age. That smile, however, that smile remained unchanged. It illuminated his pale skin, brightened his eyes and infected those in its wake with a matching grin.

"George–" I began. "About tonight–"

"You don't have to say it," he interrupted. "I already know what tonight means. I'm well aware, and I'm not worried."

"Don't say that," I breathed. "Something always happens that keeps us apart, maybe it's not in the cards. How can you be so confident that Oliver and I will break-up tonight? It's a big decision, and I'm not sure if I'm ready to–"

"I just know," he said firmly. "I know because I know you."

He gripped my shoulders and looked me square in the eyes, refusing to blink. My lips parted, but I had no words came to me at first.

"George, promise me," I started. "Promise me that whatever happens, no matter what– we will still be best friends."

He released a brief laugh, staring impossibly deeper into my eyes.

"Always," he replied.

I had never been so sure of a single word in all my life. I hugged him tightly before sending him on his way to finish getting myself together in more ways than one.

–

I puckered up enough courage to descend the stairs and face my audience. Everyone was sitting in the dining room, preparing to eat the dinner Molly had cooked. A number of people were bickering or laughing or lost in paperwork being passed along the lengthy mahogany table. George was helping Molly move a heavy pot of stew across the counter, their backs to me. I am certain it was because of his recent magical accident from the night before. Fred sat on his father's left side was consumed with a boisterous conversation with Sirius, speaking vividly with his hands as Sirius laughed in reply. Charlie (who sat between Arthur and Bill) caught my glance first as I reached the first floor. His eyes widened before a sly and humorously seductive grin graced his handsome face. He nudged Bill with his elbow, and Bill immediately had a similar reaction minus the grin. He released a low whistle that attracted the attention of the oblivious members of the group. Arthur, Sirius and Fred shared matching looks of shock and disgust.

"Oh, I certainly hope you don't plan on leaving this house wearing that," they said in unison. It was rather impressive, admittedly. Arthur paused a moment and looked over at Sirius and Fred as if her was surprised to have support or perhaps because he felt that he was the only one allowed to tell me something so paternal.

"Er– right," said Arthur slowly before looking back at me, the other two companions didn't seem to notice Arthur had looked over at them. "Winnie, go up stairs and change out of that offensive – _thing_ and put on something more age appropriate."

I smiled to myself and shrugged faux defeat, motioning to return upstairs with an excuse to tell Oliver for not wearing his dress. However, I was interrupted before turning my back.

"Oh, Winnie darling, don't you look lovely?" said Molly in a high-pitched whimsical tone from behind her husband.

"What?" everyone in the entire room said in unison. Molly strode forward, clasping her hands together with glee. She hugged me tight and shook my body because she was shaking so much with excitement. I caught George's eye across the room. He sported a very amused grin, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the counter top by himself. I stuck my tongue out at him, and he returned my immature action. Molly pulled back, gripping my elbows and looking me up and down.

"Oh, you look like such a beauty," she cooed, "so grown-up."

"George, what did you sneak in that stew?" I said, looking back over Molly's shoulder.

"Nothing that would spark delirium," he joked, "just diarrhea."

Ginny, Ron, Harry and Tonks giggled together. Hermione rolled her eyes, but I caught a slight smile hiding behind her book. Arthur rose to his feet and nearly knocked over his chair if Charlie wouldn't have leapt to his feet to catch it. He rushed to Molly's side and gave her a sterner look than I had ever seen.

"Have you lost your mind?" he whispered. "She's dressed like a...a–"

"– a what, Arthur?" Molly hissed, egging her husband to say what he was thinking because she knew he would never say the foul things he was truly thinking aloud.

"Don't make me say it," he replied quietly as everyone behind us remained ridiculously silent to try to eavesdrop.

"Allow me then," said Sirius. "She looks like a trollop–"

"– a street walking prostitute," said Fred.

"Thank you, gentlemen, I think we get the picture," I said shallowly.

"I think I have to side with mum on this one," said Charlie, pushing in Arthur's chair. "I think Freddie is certainly old enough to wear what she likes, and you can hardly blame her for wanting show off those legs."

He slowly strode forward and positioned himself behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. He pulled my back against his abdomen and rested chin upon my shoulder. I rolled my eyes. Charlie turned his face in against my neck and playfully took a large bite against my collarbone like a vampire. We both laughed as I slid away from him and punched his chest. Charlie looked up for a moment and noticed George's arms fall to his side, his stature not rigid and stressed. Charlie's smile faded for a moment as he seemingly contemplated a thought before helping me to the table to sit as Molly and Arthur continued their argument.

"Molly, how can you honestly allow her to wear something so... revealing in public?" said Arthur.

"Arthur, honestly, it isn't that bad," said Molly calmly. "I think she looks beautiful."

"Mum is just happy whenever Freddie is forced into a dress," said Bill, sipping on his goblet of cider. "It doesn't matter if the dress looks tight enough to have been painted on."

Ginny elbowed him and cider spurted out of his mouth and onto the papers before him.

"Winnie, why would you waste your money on a dress like that in the first place?" asked Arthur. "This isn't like you. That dress is not you."

"She didn't even buy it," said Fred, "Oliver bought it for her."

"So this is how he wants to see you then?" asked Arthur, appearing extremely revolted. "I hope you feel insulted, Winifred."

"Arthur, he just wants her to look current and matured for their big night," said Molly.

"It is _his_ big night, and he obviously only wants to flaunt her about like some sort of trophy," said Arthur. "It's disgusting, Winnie, take off the dress and wash that mess off your face."

"She will do no such thing," said Molly firmly. "Winnie, come on I'm taking you to Oliver's now."

"But–" I started, looking over at Arthur who was still in a deadlock with Molly. Arthur slammed his mouth shut, however, because he knew from experience that there was no winning an argument against Molly Weasley. I quickly gathered my things and rushed out the door after Molly, glancing back one last time with a helpless expression to Fred and George.

–

Charlie Weasley kept his gaze upon his younger brother. George was looking on after Winnie with what could only be described as a longing expression. Charlie didn't know why he hadn't seen it before. He'd always been closest to the twins and Winnie, but he supposed their bond lessened when he moved away from the Burrow. Things had apparently changed, the three little kids he'd grown-up with had grown-up in star-crossed adults. Charlie rose from his chair, using Bill's shoulder as a crutch. George spotted Charlie coming towards him and instantly pretended he hadn't been staring at the closed front door, suddenly becoming oddly interested in cleaning dishes by hand in the sink – his back to his big brother. Charlie propped his behind against the counter top, crossing his arms over his chest as well as his legs and leaned over slightly to George who was desperately avoiding his eye contact.

"So Winnie, eh?" said Charlie, smirking sardonically.

"What about her?" said George, scrubbing a stubborn stain on a plate.

"She has certainly grown-up," he said coyly.

"Yeah, well that tends to happen to most living creatures," said George.

"And some grow-up into better creatures than others," Charlie smiled.

"Do you want to ask me something or what, Charlie?" asked George, pausing mid-scrub.

"When did you start fancying Freddie, little brother?" he grinned.

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about," he replied, returning to his dishes. "She's just my friend."

"Oh, okay that's good to hear then," said Charlie in a less than convinced tone.

"Why is that good to hear?"

"Well, if you two are just mates then you won't mind if I go after her then," he shrugged, egging on George.

"What?" he said, dropping a porcelain plate into the sink and shattering it.

"What?" Charlie said, mocking him.

"You can't be serious," said George. "You're too old for her. You– shut up, Charlie. That's not funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny," he said. "She's of age now, and I've been noticing for awhile now that the little tomboy who you couldn't see without mud on her cheeks has traded that soggy dirt in for blush. You know as well as I did that she fancied me when she was younger, and childhood crushes never die. I bet if I told her how I feel then she'd–"

"I know what you're doing," said George, "so you can go ahead and stop now."

"So you admit it then?" said Charlie.

"Yeah, Charlie," George sighed, placing the plate he'd been pretending to clean in the sink and reaching for a cloth to dry his hands. "I admit it."

"Thank Merlin," said Charlie, affectionately gripping his brother's shoulder. "I was going to start getting reasonably vulgar about her body, and I just don't know if I could get through that without vomiting. Don't get me wrong, George, Freddie has been looking bloody well – er – _lovely_ lately, but she's still such a baby to me. I just love giving her grief."

"That's good because I don't need anymore competition," said George. "I couldn't handle moving from Second Place to Third. I have enough trouble as it is just staying on Oliver's heals."

"Well, what are you going to do about it then?" asked Charlie.

"What do you mean?"

"Freddie is what you're chasing after," said Charlie. "What are you going to do win her?"

"Kill Oliver Wood," he smirked.

"I was going to suggest something a bit less likely to have you sent away to Azkaban," said Charlie, "but at least we've got your wheels turning."

"Charlie, I've been chasing her for a year now," he said. "I'm tired."

"So you're just giving up on her then?"

"I didn't say that," he insisted. "I'm just telling you that I'm done chasing after her."

"How unromantic of you," he frowned. "With Bill and I as role models I would have thought better of you."

"Well, what do you suggest Don Juan Weasley?" George jested, rolling his eyes.

"I've always been a fan of grand gestures myself," he replied.

"Seeing as you're still single–"

"I am married to my career," he objected. "If I wanted to woo then I am more than capable of wooing."

"Fine, woo on," said George.

"Can you think of anything – anything at all that would show her you're serious about being with her?" asked Charlie. "Is there something that you think would show her how much you care about her? Come on, George, you and Fred know her better than anyone. Give her one last romantic gesture and then you can feel alright with sitting on the sidelines to catch your breath."

George didn't need to think very long. He looked down at his feet before meeting his big brother's gaze.

"I need you to take me into town," said George.

"Diagon Alley?" said Charlie with an upward inflection.

"No, Muggle London," said George with a sly grin. "I need to go shopping."

–

"Here let me help you," I said, adjusting Oliver's bow tie.

"Thanks," he replied in a hoarse tone.

I could tell he was nervous. He was sweating a significant amount and his right eyebrow kept twitching. I felt completely apathetic to my situation at hand. I felt numb to everything. It was like I was watching myself through the eyes of another. Oliver looked admittedly handsome in his dress robes, prepared for whatever outcome the award ceremony would deliver him. His flat had grown rather impressive with all of his new purchases thanks to his successful career, and I imagine his roommate Jasper McQueen's flamboyant style added to the décor.

"You really do look great," said Oliver, looking me up and down.

"I hate this dress just so you know," I frowned. "The fact that I am even wearing this thing sparked a rather heated debate that I am sure will continue now that Molly has returned home."

"Why?" he asked.

"Honestly?" I sighed. "It looks like someone covered me in a role of duct tape. It's not me."

"It could if you wanted it to be," he replied.

"I _don't_ want it to be," I replied curtly.

"Winnie, why are you so set in your ways?" he snapped abruptly. "Why are you so content never growing up?"

"Excuse me?" I spat. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"I'm just stressed, sorry," he frowned.

"I hope you realize that I am standing here in this ridiculous thing for you," I said, refusing to let him off easy. "I don't know what's more grown-up than doing something I don't want to do to make someone I care about happy."

"You know what would make me happy, Winnie, and you've been too immature to do that," he replied coldly.

"Piss off, Ollie, I told you I'm not ready," I sneered, turning to walk away but he grabbed my wrist.

"Would you be ready if I were George?" he asked, pulling me close to him.

"George wouldn't even ask," I replied harshly, "because he would know if and when I was ready."

"So you've thought about it with him then?"

"I didn't say that," I said slowly.

"But you didn't deny it," he replied.

"Fine," I frowned. "I deny it. Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"I don't believe you," he said.

"What do I have to say for you to believe me?"

"You don't have to say anything," he replied. "It's what you could do–"

"This conversation is over," I spat. "Now, I'm going to grab my clutch and we can go."

Oliver nodded with a tight lipped expression, leaning over to collect his things. I fumbled into the kitchen, the heels on my feet too high to grant me any ability of looking the slightest bit graceful. I was so mad that walking was becoming even more difficult than before. I felt every muscle in my body contract, my blood boiling. I understood his dilemma, really I did. It was natural for a red blooded man to want to shag everything in sight, but not all of them have to be such assholes about it. It had been almost two years. Oliver had paid his dues a dozen times over, and we had done nearly everything but... I don't know. I couldn't bring myself to allow Oliver to take something from me that I had held onto for seventeen years, something a lot of girls toss away like a piece of rolled up newspaper. Of course, then there was my underlying reason that I couldn't bring myself to admit aloud. I bit my lower lip and continued into the kitchen to grab my things, trying to push our repetitive conversation out of my head for the millionth time. I looked around the counter to where I had set down my purse, and I saw nothing. I became a bit frantic, searching high and low for my bag. Then I looked over and saw, a tall figure leaning against the door frame between the kitchen and hallway.

"Looking for this, love?" McQueen smirked, raising a seductive brow that caused me to grit my teeth.

"Give that back," I frowned, striding inelegantly forward and reaching for my black clutch. He instantly jerked his hand high out of my reach. McQueen extended his free index finger under my chin and flicked my head upwards and a bit too roughly in my opinion. "The next time you try and lay a hand on me will be the last time you have hands."

"Oh, I am terrified," he teased, dropping my clutch so I would have to bend over and pick it up. I gritted my teeth and muttered words I could never rightfully say in front of Molly. Just then, the front door opened with an accompanied sound of heavy heels.

It was Alicia. She looked the same, her face painted up in pale pink colors to match her short cupcake looking dress. She was smiling and babbling on about how excited she was before she even opened the door, but she became still and silent once she laid eyes on me. I hadn't seen her since the end of term and her existence hadn't really even crossed my mind. She looked upon me with a curious expression. It wasn't her typical sneer or cold glare. No, she stared at me with a sort of surprised expression, appearing as if her breath had been stolen from her lungs. I didn't move at first but then opted to look down at my crooked heels.

"Hi," she breathed at last, closing the door behind her.

"Hey," I nodded solemnly.

"Wood, Alicia is here," Jasper called to Oliver. "Let's get a move on, lad."

"Alright," Oliver called from his bedroom. "I just need to grab something."

Jasper swarmed to Alicia and kissed her, causing her to giggle infuriatingly. I rolled my eyes and checked to make sure all of my things were accounted for in my clutch seeing as McQueen was infamous for thievery. I looked up when I saw that nothing was missing and only because there was nothing of interest to him. I had to admit that McQueen and Alicia looked pretty happy, at least when they were alone together. I missed that feeling, my boyfriend's arm around my waist and feeling completely at peace and not as if a creepy uncle was about to slip his hand up my shirt at Christmas dinner.

"Ready?" said Oliver, swooping behind me and leading me towards the hearth by my waist as if our fight just moments ago hadn't happened. Before I could even reply, Oliver was shoving me beside him into the fireplace, shouting the address to the banquet and tossing the floo powder before our feet. Everything was still a blur when I reopened my eyes to see an enormous hall of golden pillars and elegant tapestries that could put Hogwarts to shame. Hundred of witches and wizards crowded about and entrance that was surrounded by dozens of photographers and reporters that shouted a stream of players' names. I was blinded as we approached, feeling suffocated and dizzy. Oliver clutched my waist tight, smiling at the flashing bulbs as I ducked them.

"For Christ's sake, Winnie – smile," he said, nudging my hip against him. I forced a fake grin at a particularly plump witch who took my picture. I felt ridiculous, more ridiculous than I anticipated feeling.

"Oliver, over here!" someone shouted. "Oliver, can we get a picture of you with Jasper McQueen?"

He released me without a second thought, released me into a crowd a nameless faces. I felt like I couldn't breathe, like I was drowning in a sea of bright lights and loud voices. I kept being pushed and shoved into strangers – lost. I saw Oliver and McQueen with broad smiles and their arms wrapped around each others' shoulders. I think I spoke his name, but he didn't look back or even blink. I then felt a hand grip my wrist and lead me into a large banquet hall with a stage front and center, circular tables surrounding the dais with moving images on dangling fabric. It was Alicia who had taken hold of me. I was breathing heavily when we escaped the crowd, my head feeling light.

"You alright?" she asked so genuinely that I figured it must have been the hysteria of it all.

"Yeah, fine," I nodded, gasping for air. "I just wasn't ready for all _that_."

"Ladies?" said a cryptic looking gentlemen with a long scroll in his hand, appearing from behind us. "May I help you find your table?"

"Please," said Alicia. "We're with the Wood and McQueen parties."

"Yes, of course," he nodded, "Table 13, follow your escort to your seats. Enjoy your evening, the award ceremony will begin momentarily."

"Thank you," Alicia and I nodded.

A young man with a blotched face lead Alicia and I to a circular table that was set for six, covered in a gorgeous purple tablecloth with golden plates, goblets and silverware. We spotted Zora and Gaius as well as the other Puddlemere players seated at nearby tables and greeted them casually. The escort then pulled out Alicia's chair and pushed it in while I beat him to the punch. He seemed very put off that I sat myself. Not a moment later we were joined by two more guests, though not Oliver and Jasper as we expected. It was Mick O'Neil and a very pretty young girl with long, golden hair even thick than my own arrived across from us. The girl had enormous chocolate brown eyes with hazel specks and an infectious smile that matched Mick's. She waved and greeted us as if she had know us for years. I hadn't smiled since we'd walked out of the fireplace, but there was something about the girl that made me feel guilty if I denied her a grin in reply.

"Hello girls, don't you both look lovely," said Mick, helping the girl into her seat. "How are you this evening?"

"Hey Mick, thanks, mate," I replied. "We're just waiting on our boyfriends to stop tanning beneath the flashbulbs. Who do you have with you?"

"This is my baby sister, Monica, she sneaked in," he smiled, slinging his arm over her slender shoulders. She blushed and tried to shrug him off, laughing despite herself as Alicia and I couldn't help but join in. "Only joking, I dragged her along."

"Hi Monica," I said. "I apologize that you are going to be subjected to an evening with the lot of us."

"No, this is all rather exciting," she spoke with a French accent that I didn't expect. "I don't get to see Micky much being away at school and all. I'm glad to be in the middle of his world for a night."

"She is a fifth year at Beauxbatons," Mick explained. "Our dad died not long after Monica was born, and Mum remarried a Frenchman while I was at Hogwarts."

"Hey O'Neil," said Jasper, slapping him harshly on the shoulder and taking his seat beside Alicia as Oliver did the same by taking his place beside me. "Who's this?"

"Wood, McQueen, this is my little sister M–"

"Couldn't manage yourself a real date, O'Neil?" McQueen laughed.

"That's rude, Jasper," Alicia said to my incredible surprise. "It's sweet that he wants to spend time with his sister."

"You can't shag your sister," McQueen joked, nudging Oliver who looked as if he'd swallowed wrong. "Well, I suppose you can't always shag your date either. Right, Wood?"

I shot Oliver the nastiest look I have ever mustered and dug my fingernails into the upholstered chair I was sitting upon. How dare he? I mean the audacity to discuss such personal information with someone like Jasper McQueen. I hadn't discussed anything of the sort with anyone, and he– I wanted to stab him with the gold-plated fork before me. I was furious. Oliver could tell because he looked over at McQueen and mouthed for him to shut up. He placed his hand on mine, but I pulled it away as soon as his skin touched mine. I turned my head away, catching Alicia scolding McQueen out of the corner of my eye and Monica looking rather embarrassed and out of place as her brother tried to comfort her which only made me more upset knowing her evening was being influenced by our idiocies.

A tall, handsome wizard wearing robes of royal blue and silver emerged, holding several envelopes in his hands. He grinned and introduced himself to the crowed as the Quidditch Commissioner, giving a brief oration about the successful year of Quidditch amongst the teams and humors tales from his time on the pitch. He then introduced the Minister of Magic who immediately began spewing about how honored he was to be here and how much of fan he was of the sport. He would be announcing the first couple awards for Best Coach, Memorable Individual Performance, and Best Comeback Player of the year. The other awards for Rookie of the Year, Best Female Player, Best Male Player, Best Play, and Outstanding Team would be announced later on by the Commissioner. I focused my attention on the food that had magically appeared upon our plates and tried to zone out from my surroundings to avoid committing murder in public.

"Winnie?" said Oliver in a hushed voice.

"Do not speak to me," I hissed, cutting into my steak as if it were still alive.

"Winnie, please don't be upset with me," he pouted. "I told Jasper that in confidence–"

"That was your first mistake," I snapped. "I can't believe you, Oliver. What we do and do not do in private is our business. I am humiliated."

"I'm sorry," he replied. "I will make it up to you tonight. I promise."

"I'm sure," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes and crossing my arms.

"Listen, Winnie," said Oliver in a completely different tone. He sounded as if he were scolding me. He lowered his voice so no one at the table could hear him. "I will not have you spoil my night over something so petty. If I win tonight, I will be world renown – do you know what that means? My face will be on every newspaper in the world, and teams we've never played – international teams – will know that I am one of the best. I need positive publicity now more than ever, Winnie, if I have any hope of getting traded to a team that actually has winning potential."

"So you want your face on _The Prophet_ to be recognized to be traded to a better team?" I hissed. "Do your teammates know about this? That seems like a pretty shitty thing to do if you ask me, Oliver. They have embraced you from day one, and to have this ulterior motive is the ultimate betrayal."

"Trades happen all the time, it's part of the game," he sighed, half-listening to Cornelius Fudge announce his last award for the evening. "I want Scotland to give me a second glance, and they would never do that if I'm stuck on a team that can't make it to the playoffs."

"Puddlemere had a good season!" I objected.

"Puddlemere had a good season for Puddlemere," he replied, sipping his wine, "but their good is not good enough."

"Where the hell is this coming from?"

"I've been mulling it over for a few months now," he replied. "I need to start focusing on my upward mobility potential."

I stared at him with a blank expression for a long time. I set down my fork and knife and just stared. It took a long time for my brain to process everything that had just happen and respond.

"What happened?" I said finally in a quiet voice.

"What?" he replied, oblivious to my question as he nibbled on a slice of bread.

"What happened to you – to us?"

"Stop being so melodramatic, you know I love you," he said, "so stop being all worked up in case the cameras see you."

"Why would the cameras see me?" I said. "You would be the one to win the award, not me."

"Yes, but I would have to give an acceptance speech, and I would want to thank my new fiancee for all her unyielding support," he replied as if he was ordering a salad.

"That is not funny," I frowned.

"I wasn't trying to be," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small black box. He popped back the lid and revealed an immaculate diamond ring. He looked at me as if I had ruined the surprise. My mouth hung open like a fool. "I planned on asking you tonight, on stage, but because you've decided to get mad at me – I figured I would tell you now just in case your temper got the better of you and decided to say "no" just to spite me. My reputation couldn't deal with such a blow."

"I'm sorry, I'm trying to process all this," I said, my head spinning. I was glad everyone at our table was too consumed with the Commissioner to notice out conversation. I quickly reached over and slammed the black box closed. "We have been fighting for months, and you think asking– no telling me to marry you is going to be a solution. No, I reckon this must have something to do with a publicity stunt as well. It doesn't matter what award outshines the one – you haven't even won yet – but you will still have your face on the front page if you make some romantic proposal in front of a crowd."

"You're being ridiculous," he replied.

"I'm being ridiculous? _I_ am being ridiculous?" I laughed like a lunatic – because that was what the entire situation was turning me into. "Do you realize how out of no where this is?"

"We've been dating for almost 2 years," he objected nonchalantly.

"I am seventeen years old," I said indignantly. "I am still in school. I am by no means ready for such a commitment. I am far too young, and I don't even know if I want to get married in the first place – to anyone, ever."

"Please, every girl fantasizes about their wedding day," he said. "I don't know why you're so upset. If you don't want to get married now – that's fine, but you can't object to an extended engagement. It would be no different that what we are now, just a different title."

"And what is it that we are now?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Alright, because you are so oblivious to what is really going on here, Oliver, I am going to throw it all out on the table," I said, no fear in my heart any longer. "I loved you. I loved you so much I didn't know what to do with myself–"

"Wait, why are you speaking in past tense?"

"Because those feelings _are_ past tense," I said solemnly. "You don't love me anymore either, Oliver, you know you don't. It's alright to admit it. We grew apart and that is no one's fault. We both have changed into people, and each of us resent each other for the person we have evolved in to. That's alright, too. I wish things wouldn't have turned out this way, really I do – but I am not going to hold on to something that no longer exists. You shouldn't either."

"Win–"

"I'm going to be honest, whether you want to hear it or not," I continued. "I would rather french kiss a Dementor than spend the rest of my life with you – actually the rest of this evening either. I realize that now, and I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you how I feel. You've become someone I don't love, but worse than that you've become someone I don't _like_. I am positive that someday you will comeback from whatever this is that you've transformed in to, but I refuse to wait around for that to happen. I know what waiting on someone feels like, and I can't do it any longer – I won't make anyone else wait on me any longer either. What we had was great while it lasted, and I am not blaming you for what has happened between us. I played my part as well, and I am bowing at my final curtain call at this performance we've been acting in for the last several months. I'm sorry I'm doing this now, but I fear that I will keep avoiding the inevitable until I convince myself that this is what a relationship is supposed to be, and I know it's not – you know it's not. I'm sorry, Ollie."

"You're breaking up with me?" he said hoarsely. "After everything we've been through, after everything I have done for you throughout finding out about your ability and– how could you and at a time like this?"

"OLIVER WOOD – PUDDLEMERE!"

"Congratulations, Wood!" Mick clapped. The Commissioner had announced Oliver's name. He'd won his award. He had gotten everything he'd worked for. He stared blankly at me for a moment. The audience cheered as they had for every other award winner, but Oliver just sat and stared at me. "Go on, Ollie, go up there!"

"Congratulations, Oliver," I said, softly as I reached for my clutch. "You've gotten everything you've always wanted."

"For a price, right?" he whispered.

He slowly rose to his feet and approached the stage with a blatantly fake smile plastered across his face. When all eyes were on Oliver as he began to speak, I quickly slunk out of my chair and hurried for the back doors. I knew Oliver wouldn't want me there when he returned to his seat. There was nothing more to say. A couple photographers snapped my picture as I hastily exited through the back door into the golden and now empty lobby. The floor was slick and squeaky as I rushed to find the door to leave. I couldn't use any of the fireplaces because Number 12 didn't allow the floo network in the house. I need air, I needed to breathe. My right heel broke as ran most ungracefully towards the enormous golden doors to the outside. I left behind and just walked with limp until I reached the exit. A cool gust of summer wind instantly blew my hair from my eyes, an intoxicating aroma of a recent rainfall stinging my nostrils. I covered my mouth and released a heavy sigh, shaking my head from side to side. I couldn't believe I had finally ended it or just the events that had occurred leading up the end. I grew suddenly frustrated, slipping off both broken and intact heels and throwing them into the street.

"You know, you really aren't much of a lady," said a familiar voice. A gangly figure stood in the shadows against the brick wall of the building the ceremony had taken place. I stared at him a shocked expression. "I thought these might fit your fancy a bit better."

The dark figure stepped out into the pale moonlight and pulled out a pair of brand new navy blue trainers from behind his back that looked identical to my favorite old ones I had sadly destroyed earlier in the day. I released a heavy breath and smiled feebly.

"George," I whispered. "I am so glad you're here."

–

_**A/N:** Six months? It took me 6 months to update? Pathetic. I'm so sorry to all of you wonderful readers. I've been ridiculously swamped with school and work, and I also had my grandmother pass away a couple weeks ago. We were extremely close, and she suffered a long time from a horrible disease. I plan on using this story to work through my grief and stress. I hope you will all forgive me. I missed Winnie and the twins, and I'm glad to be with them again._

_**PS:** Shout outs will return next chapter._

_**PSS:** Excuse any typos for now. I wanted to post this tonight, and I half-assed edited it. ALSO I have all my trailers for this series on Youtube if you want to check them out. Just search for my username - "TopoftheGList."_

_**Coming Soon:** So what does this mean for Winnie and George? What will Molly and Arthur have to say? The kids go back to Hogwarts and Umbridge is an instant er– hit with our trio. Winnie's dreams become more vivid and terrifying, and she feels lost without Cassandra's weekly lessons. Chaos and hilarity undoubtedly ensue..._

–

_**Review.**_


	4. Chapter 3: The Fairy Prince

_**Chapter Three**_

_The Fairy Prince_

–

_We choose those we like;  
>with those we love,<br>we have no say in the matter._

–

Have you ever experienced that one moment – that one _crystallizing_ moment where everything just made complete and utter sense? You know, when it feels as if all the chaos turns to calm and everything just falls perfectly into place? I hadn't until I saw George Weasley, standing before me and looking like a drowned, stinking rat from the recent rainstorm wearing a smile that stole the breath from my lungs. I slowly strode forward, using the dim moonlight seeping through the storm clouds as our solitary light source. He removed his jacket and held it for me to accept upon my shoulders. He rubbed my arms to warm my skin that did no good because the jacket was sopping wet just like him – I didn't complain, however.

"Have you ever heard the story about Cinderella?" George grinned, beaming down at me after releasing my upper arms. Several large raindrops fell from his bangs and onto my chest.

"Yes, I believe we have agreed that I turn back into a pumpkin at midnight," I smirked, pushing a dripping strand of red hair behind his ear. "However, I am rather fuzzy on the schematics, so refresh my memory."

"Well, Cinderella was forced into servitude by her evil stepmother and stepsisters," he started, his smile growing wider after each syllable. "She had to cook and clean all day and wasn't even allowed to attend the annual ball at the Prince's castle. She wished to be happy and one night her fairy godmother showed up to grant her wish. Cinderella's fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage and her little rodent friends into her coachmen. She got all fancied up in a proper gown and even a pair of glass slippers. At the stroke of midnight the spell would be broken and Cinderella would go back to her normal mess of a self. Well, at the ball she met the handsome prince. He fell in love with Cinderella at first sight, but midnight came too soon. Cinderella had to run off, leaving behind a lonely glass slipper and a feeling of longing for the prince. Then the prince took that glass slipper and traveled all across the kingdom until he found Cinderella and rescued her from her horrible stepmother and stepsisters."

"And did they live happily ever after?"

"Nauseatingly happy," George smirked. He knelt down and unlaced one of the new trainers in his hand. He gently took my foot and helped me slide my barefoot into the shoe. It fit perfectly. He laced it and stood back up, leaving me to admire my new Chucks. I propped my leg up so my foot was arched on my toe then looked up into George's eyes again.

"Does this make you my fairy godmother or the handsome prince?" I simpered.

"You know, your ability to ruin heartfelt moments is astounding," he smiled,

"I'm only joking," I teased, pinching his cheek. "I know you're my fairy prince."

"You're so–"

"Thank you, Georgie," I said softly, placing my hand on his cheek. He knew I was being sincere because he swallowed his words.

"You're welcome," he replied.

"But what are you doing here?" I asked. "I wasn't supposed to be back to Number Twelve until late."

"Well, you don't have to be a Seer to predict this night was going to end in disaster," he smirked, "and I wanted to come here and ask you something."

"And what is that?"

"Would you, Winnie McKinnon, like to go on a proper date with yours truly?" he asked. George dramatically flaunted his hand like a French waiter and held out his hand for me to accept. I merely stared at flattened, open palm with wide eyes.

I knew things were going to change between George and me after I stepped out of that door into the night air, but I didn't expect things to change so quickly. I wanted them to, don't get me wrong. I had yearned for a relationship with George for a long time, whether I was willing to admit it back then or not. He and I – _we_ – had _something_ that was undeniable, indescribable, something magnetic that was constantly pulling us together. We spent a long time trying to fight that attraction, we put up a good fight, but we lost and neither of us objected to the turnout. In the beginning, we were separated by immaturity and denial then by my relationship with Oliver and George's relationship with Alicia. Now, however, there was nothing standing between George and I but air and a fear of the unknown. Don't get me wrong, this fear was everything but frightening. This fear was exciting and electric, and it was intoxicating.

I think what was keeping me from shouting my joy from the top of my lungs that George had asked me such a question was the same fear that caused my heart to race and my lips to tremble. The two of us were young and begrudgingly naïve to what an adult relationship really entailed. We had all the ingredients to brew a healthy and happy young couple, but George and I were also dreadful at Potions. The two of us had been concentrating so much on the present that we forgot about the future. We were so concerned about the right now, with finally being together that neither of us realized what exactly that meant. If we started a real relationship then we would have to hide it for as long as we could from Molly and Arthur. Molly would try and separate us at all costs for fear that we would procreate or something equally obscene. This would also potentially cause our friends to be unnerved due to the outcome of George and Alicia's mess of a relationship not long before that caused a rift in our close knit group of friends. None of that seemed to bother me enough to prevent me from taking his hand. I did, however, want George to be just as aware of the consequences we would face before he wanted me to accept.

"Your silence is not exactly the response I was hoping for," he said, awkwardly retreating his hand into his jean pocket.

"Before I take your hand, I want you to be sure this is what you want," I said slowly. "I want you to realize what this means. I mean, we are about to leap into the unknown here. We might face some real obstacles, so I want you to be certain that you want _this_ – that you want _me_ and you want _us_."

George looked relieved, as if I had lifted a two ton weight off of his shoulders. He took a small step forward to erase what little space remained between us. He peered directly down into my eyes with a thoughtful expression.

"Freddie, I have only been completely certain about three things in my life," he grinned. "The first is that Frederick Gideon Weasley is my identical twin brother and best mate, and I am the better looking twin no matter how slightly. The second being that Minerva McGonagall has a second set of eyeballs hidden beneath the hair on the back her head, and the third is that I, George Weasley, would like nothing more than to take you, Winnie McKinnon, on a date tonight."

"What a coincidence," I smiled, "I too have been completely certain of three things in my entire life. The first is that seagulls are rodents that have grown wings, and the second being that Frederick Gideon Weasley is the most handsome of the entire Weasley clan."

"And the third?"

"Thirdly is that I, Winifred Rose McKinnon, would like nothing more than to kiss you, George Weasley, at this very moment," I whispered.

"Alright, I am completely certain of _four_ things–"

Before he could finish his sentence, my lips thrashed upon his to swallow his words. He did not oppose to my silencing tactic. Instead, he melted into my kiss, gripping my wild mane of hair tightly between his fingers. A bright flash broke out which we deducted had to be lightening. After a few moments more George and I apparated at his command, appearing seconds later still lip locked in the middle of Diagon Alley. We finally separated; the empty streets welcomed us as if the barren cobblestone beckoned us to start anew.

"You know, I was never an advocate for kissing on the first date," George teased, "but you've convinced me otherwise."

"I am very persuasive," I smirked, playing coyly with George's collar. I then looked around to see where we really were.

We stood before Lady Hilda's Hideaway. I can remember Molly and Arthur taking us to eat at this very spot on our first trip to Diagon Alley before our first year. We got to order whatever we liked which was rare because we grew up on a budget that typically didn't allow for luxury which included eating out. I'll never forget that day for some reason. I don't know if it was because I was secretly anxious about my first trip to Hogwarts or the pumpkin cake dessert that seemed to calm my nervous. I loved that day, and I will always remember that feeling.

I suppose it wasn't Lady Hilda's Hideaway anymore though. It looked rather disheveled now as it had closed 5 years prior. There were boards on all the windows, an old sign dangling by a rusted chain and bricks weathered to near dust. It was no less charming, however. The building appeared to almost sway in the wind, it's tall stature seemed flexible but sturdy – its foundation concreted with memories. A "SOLD" sign hung in the window, no telling how long the sign had hung there or how reliable it truly was.

"I may be a cheap date, George, but give me some credit," I joked, still staring up at the daunting structure.

I felt George take my hand and turned to look up at him. However, George was not towering over me as he usually did, he was holding my hand and down on one knee with a small box identical to Oliver's in his hand.

"Oh, shite, not again," I muttered, my eyes as wide as saucers.

"Winnie McKinnon," he began, looking deep into my eyes. "We've been mates all our lives. You have been by my side through the good times on the bad. You have kept me sane when I was losing my marbles and drove insane when I was far too normal for comfort. You're brilliant and witty and smarter than I would like to admit. I don't know what I would do without you, and for that reason I want to ask you one simple question."

"George, please don't do this–"

"Would you be my business partner?" he smiled, popping open the box that displayed an old skeleton key.

"Oh, thank Merlin," I breathed, smiling and nodding. "Of course I will, you knobhead."

George placed the key in my hand, discarded the box and hugged me tight.

"What did you think I was going to ask you?" asked George, grinning like a lunatic.

"I thought you were going to ask me to marry you," I smirked and George nearly collapsed in a fit of laughter.

"We're seventeen, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," he chuckled. "No offense, Freddie, but that is barmy."

I stood on the tips of my toes and kissed him to end his laughter. I was just where I needed to be and it felt good. George led me to the front door, so I could use my key to unlock the ancient knob. The inside was cluttered with cobwebs, splintered beams and several sets of tiny glowing eyes belonging to small critters.

"Fred found the place a while back, but we never told you because we didn't think much of it then," he explained, lighting the tip of his want and then illuminating several candles placed around the front lobby. "I figured we should stop playing it safe and start following our dream. I talked to Fred after you left, we got a hold of the owner and here we are. What do you think?"

"I think the foundation is crumbling, the layout is questionable, the structure is faulty and there are probably more cockroaches than we'll ever have future customers," I said as George's smile fell. "And I bloody well love it."

George chuckled and ruffled my hair playfully, kissing my forehead and several strands of hair by his own doing. There was a dim glow coming from the front room that I hadn't noticed before. I sidestepped George and my stomach lurched.

"I think we might have some defective wiring, Georgie," I said anxiously. "Is that a fire?"

"Well, luckily I've got some firewood!" George laughed, swooping me up into a bridal hold and striding towards the glow. "Let's have ourselves a Winnie roast! Get it, Freddie, like a wienie roast but with Winnie?"

"George, what is that we always say?"

"There's no such thing as funny joke if it requires an explanation," said George, sighing heavily as we reached the main entryway.

The room was aglow thanks to dozens of floating candles, illuminating the mahogany floors and fixtures. A filthy old blanket was laid on the floor, a plate of treats from Gambol and Japes in the middle. A bottle of Butterbeer with two cups cluttered the center of the blanket as well, a shirt had clearly cleaned the rims of the glasses instead of soap and water. I didn't mind because the array set before me was more perfect and pristine than the golden pillars and shining place settings I had been privy to earlier with Oliver.

"What's all this then?" I asked, slowly freeing myself back onto my own two feet. I was rather mesmerized by it all. The rain struck the front window, singing a natural melody as I walked forward, extending my fingertips to touch a beautiful floating candle.

"It was sort of Charlie's idea–"

"Charlie?" I interrupted, turning suddenly back around to face him with a confused expression. "Is he going to be joining us then?

"Will you just sit down, for Merlin's sake?" George sighed, "You just have to bloody ruin every sentimental moment with a joke, don't you?"

"Well, if that isn't the pot calling the cauldron black," I smirked. As a peace offering, I grabbed his collar, sent him a cheeky grin and pulled him gently down beside me upon the blanket. He laughed and leaned in to kiss me.

"Charlie helped me get out of the house undetected, Fred too of course," George explained, "Charlie also gave me the push to... you know, go after you."

"Charlie always was my favorite Weasley," I replied, winking at him in jest as I bit in to a licorice wand. "Well, after Ginny, and Fred, and Ron, and Bill, and Arthur, and Molly. Am I forgetting anyone?"

"Just Percy," George smirked.

"How could anyone forget to remember Percy?"

We chatted for quite awhile before accidentally falling asleep just 2 glasses into our bottle of Butterbeer. The storm outside roared on, the soothing crack of thunder was inescapable even in my unconscious. My head rested on George's upper abdomen, his chest rising and falling was almost like a lullaby. Another loud crack of thunder rang out again, loud enough for me to stir. I blinked a couple times, peering up at George who was still sound asleep. It was still dark outside, but I could tell morning was not far away despite the storm clouds battling the sun's rays. I pushed myself up into a sitting position, careful to not wake George just yet. I cracked my neck and rubbed my eyes, yawning away my sleep. The ripped curtains blew slightly from the draftiness of the windowsill. I suddenly saw something moving outside in the darkness, someone moving. I slowly stood up, rubbing the back of my sore neck and quietly crept towards the portion of the cracked window that wasn't covered by the ugly, ancient maroon curtains. Another earsplitting thunderclap shook the earth. I glanced up at the small portion of the window that had only been blackness a moment ago but I saw a face. It wasn't just any face. It was the face. The face that had haunted my being, the face that stole the lives of so many I cared for, the face that tried to kill me. It was Travers – alive in the flesh. He wore the same twisted grin, wiry hair and holey old hat atop his head. He waved at me by bending his index finger, winking at me in the same horrifying manner he had on the night he killed my family. Not a second later, he was gone and the blackness returned.

I covered my mouth and released a bloodcurdling scream that instantly shot George up from his slumber. I fell backwards, pushing myself on my backside until I struck the old splintered counter behind me. I curled up into a ball, burying my face between my knees and rocking back and forth like a child. I was shaking uncontrollably, stiff as a board as I gripped my mop of hair so tightly that I can hardly fathom how I didn't rip all of it from my scalp.

"Winnie?" George pleaded, gripping my upper arms and trying frantically to have me look at him. "Winnie, what's wrong?!"

"It was _him_," I muttered, teeth chattering. "_He_ was here. _He_ saw us."

"Who?" asked George, trying to pull me against him to no avail. "Who saw us?"

"Travers," I said, finally jerking my head up to meet his eyes. "I saw him – through the window – he was here."

"Winnie, Travers is in Azkaban," said George slowly, tenderly cupping my face in his hands. "You're safe. It was probably just a nightmare."

"No, I saw him," I pleaded, shaking my head and pointing to the window. "He was right _there_."

George stood up and pulled his wand from the back of his pants. I knew he was only doing what he was doing for my sake. I knew he didn't really believe I saw a crazed murderer outside. He gripped his wand and approached the window as I quickly crawled to my feet to stop him, afraid Travers was still outside. George pulled back the thick curtain, revealing nothing but the storm growing outside. I sprinted towards him, wrapping my arms around his waist. I buried my face in his chest as if to protect him from the danger outside.

"See? Nothing to be–" said George, stopping mid-sentence. His jaw dropped, and I felt his frame begin to tremble. "Winnie, we need to go. Now."

I slowly turned my head off of George's chest to look at the small window portion where I had just seen the face of Travers. His presence did not remain. No, but something almost as chilling stayed behind. Travers had drawn a heart on the windowpane from the condensation. The heart had an "X" marked through it. I reached my hand out and touched the glass and my fingers made no indention because the marks had been made from the outside. George held me tight against him, now trembling as I was as his skin turned as white as snow. He flicked his wand to extinguish the candles then instantly apparated a block from the Number Twelve.

–

"He's going to come after me," I said with certainty, clutching George's arm as we gathered our bearings. I said it without emotion because I knew it was true. He would kill me. It would happen and it was just a matter of when.

"Hey," said George, suddenly stepping forward and holding me still in front of him. "We don't know for sure what happened back there. Alright? You know more than anyone how scary and unpredictable your visions can be."

"Yeah, but I usually know when I am having one," I said, "and my visions don't typically have the ability to write."

"But Travers is still rotting away in Azkaban," said George, "and you had that weird experience before with Fabian's watch popping up, right?"

"But–"

"I know you're scared right now, and I don't blame you," he said calmly. "I got a bit skittish there for a minute myself, but we can't go jumping to any wildly unlikely conclusions."

"I know what I saw, George," I frowned.

"All I'm saying is that no one besides Sirius has ever managed to escape Azkaban alive and his face was plastered on every wall in Europe," said George, turning to lead us back to Number Twelve. "We would know if Travers was loose."

He was right.

"I suppose," I sighed, loosing my grip on his arm only slightly as the door appeared before us. The sun's quiet rays were only slightly beginning to fight the black sky to turn it a deep violet.

We slid off our trainers and tip-toed through the front door, cringing as it creaked ever so slightly behind us. I giggled quietly, meeting George's humored gaze, pulling myself playfully against his arm again. Every wooden floor board seemed to tease us, taunting us with the possibility of waking the household. The staircase beside the dining room was the finish line and we had won our race, beaten the others to the chase. We each heaved a heavy sigh of relief as our feet met the base of the steps. My eyes met with George's ever so briefly before hearing an all too familiar sound of throat being cleared coming from behind us. George and I instantly released each others hands and took a step away from each other, turning swiftly around.

"Shite," I breathed.

Everyone calling the Number Twelve their temporary home was sitting uneasily at the dining room table, most looking exhausted as if they'd been woken in the middle of the night without the option of returning to sleep. There was only dry toast on the table for breakfast and no one spoke. Molly stood at the helm, extending her arm towards us in order to reveal the paper in her hand. It was a copy of _Witch Weekly _and not only were Oliver and myself on the cover but George as well. The title read "Oliver Wood, a Night of Wins and Losses." There was a photograph of Oliver holding open the ring box and myself looking surprised, another of him accepting his award on stage and finally the largest picture of George and I kissing outside of the building. I quickly realized the flash of lightening that had startled us outside the night before was certainly a sneaky photographer out for a story. I'd never seen Molly look so crazed.

"Care to explain yourselves?" she seethed.

I looked and George and he looked at me, both of us initially speechless. I opened my mouth but no words came at first, the same with him.

"It's not what it looks–" he began, pausing for a moment and looking utterly mournful at the idea of covering up our newly forming relationship.

"Oh, piss it," I sighed, reaching over and taking George's hand. "It's exactly what it looks like."

Charlie and Bill erupted in a fit of laughter, slapping each other on the back. Hermione and Ginny released identical half-giggle half-squeals while Sirius and Fred exchanged mutual expressions of contentment. Harry and Ron appeared too shocked to speak. George wrapped his arm around my waist and held me proudly against him, sticking his chest out as if to express his unwillingness to back down. Molly swiftly turned about, slamming the paper down on the dining room table and pointed at Arthur.

"I told you we should have never bathed them together!" she shouted hysterically.

"Mum, you can't base Freddie and George's relationship off of baths we took together as toddlers," said Fred, sporting a cheeky grin and leaning back slyly in his chair beside Sirius. "The ones we took as teenagers... well, you might have something there."

"Fred – your room – now," said Molly, too enraged to properly form a sentence.

"Come on, Mum, I wasn't the one snogging Winnie. Wait, or was I?" Fred picked up the newspaper, pretending to examine the front page image very carefully before setting it down again. "Nope, false alarm. It was George."

"Now is not the time for jokes, son," said Arthur, patting Fred affectionately on the back to motion for him to take to his feet.

"As I've said before," said Fred, side stepping the firmly planted Molly. "It's always the times when humor is the least welcomed that it is the most necessary."

"Go – now," she snapped, pointing at the staircase.

"Good luck, mates," said Fred, winking at both of us before striding up the steps two-at-a-time.

"The same goes for the rest of you – GO," said Molly, keeping her eyes square on the two of us though her words were meant for all those behind her.

Everyone but Sirius and Arthur disassembled and retreated to their respected bedrooms, all too afraid of an angry Molly Weasley.

"Sirius, you are not exempt," she hissed. "Leave Arthur and I alone with them."

"And miss baring witness to a double homicide – never," said Sirius, all too amused. "I missed thirteen of my own murders, and I do not intend to miss another opportunity like that again."

"Molly, let him stay," I said, instantly biting my own tongue after receiving a nasty look from Molly in return.

"Dear, perhaps it would be beneficial to have an unbiased third party when discussing the... situation we are currently dealing with," said Arthur sheepishly.

Molly did not move or breathe for what felt like an eternity before finally sending her husband a single curt nod over her shoulder. Molly grabbed the folded newspaper and and twisted it wickedly between her fists as she paced back and forth before the two of us. George's grip on my hand seemed to tighten as well.

"Mum, let us explain–"

"How long has this been going on exactly?" she asked.

"That's quite the complicated question," I shrugged. "Do you mean how long have we been... together or how long we've had... feelings?"

"How long you've had these feelings," she replied.

"Well–" I started.

"Seventeen years," said George without a moment of hesitation.

"What?!" Molly gasped.

I shared her surprise though no words escaped my lips.

"I knew from the first minute we met that we were meant to be right here, right now, by each others side," he said with nothing but unwavering confidence. "I knew it would never be easy and it certainly wouldn't happen fast, but I always knew – _always_."

"You're too young to say such things," said Molly, tripping over her son's meaningful statement. "You're only seventeen."

"We know that, Molly," I said. "We know we're young and it's not like we're suddenly getting married or anything absurd. We just know that we care about each other and have for a long time, and we want to be together. And besides, I know a couple of teenagers who were just about our age when some older and wiser adults advised them that a serious relationship so young was a mistake. Seven gingers later, I would say those two teenagers had the last word."

Molly looked ever so slightly at her husband who sent her a weak smile.

"What about Oliver, Winnie?" asked Arthur, "You two were together for two years. What happened there, and even more specifically what happened tonight?"

"That is a long story, honestly," I said. "Oliver and I haven't been happy for awhile now. We have become two very different people, and those two people don't mesh well. He didn't really want to marry me, and I'm sure he knows that deep down as well. His proposal was just a last stitch effort to keep whatever we had once from completely falling apart. I will always care for Oliver because he was my first love, but I have not been _in love_ with him for a very long time. And I don't want him as my last."

"You grew up together, it's nearly incestuous," said Molly, grasping for excuses.

"Oh, hardly," Ginny snorted too loudly from atop the staircase, obviously having been listening to the entire conversation. The lot of us turned our heads quickly to see her covering her mouth, cheeks as red as roses. One hard glance from Molly and she skidded back into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

"It's not like she's not my sister, mum, don't be crude," George frowned, turning back to Molly. "We grew up together, sure. Have I at any point in time saw Winnie in the same way I see Ginny? No, absolutely not – disgusting."

"No offense, Mol, but we've been kept apart for too long already," I said, squeezing George's hand and standing a bit taller. "I am not about to let anything or anyone get in the way of us getting together."

"So you don't care at all about what Arthur and I think about this?" she asked.

"We care about how you feel, Mum," said George, shrugging, "but that doesn't mean we care enough to listen."

Sirius had remained reasonably quiet, but he cleared his throat just then. I'm sure he could tell that Molly was about reload her arsenal of commonsense to release upon us. Arthur was beyond words. It was as if he was stuck between what he thought and what he knew he should be thinking. Sirius stood between the couple, placing an affection arm around their shoulders.

"Let's take a moment to appreciate the fact that both Winnie and George are alive and well," said Sirius in jest. "No one is pregnant, cursed, or on their way to Azkaban. Yes, I understand this is a delicate situation that has arisen, but trying to keep them separated is not an option – and I know that you both know that deep down as well."

"Sirius, do not interfere with how we discipline our children," snapped Molly.

"They're not children anymore – can't you see that?" Sirius interjected, moving forward to stand behind George and myself in the same manner he had between Molly and Arthur. "And what exactly disciplining them for? You can certainly punish them for missing their curfew, but you can't reprimand them for developing feelings for each other. They had no control over that, and you couldn't keep them apart even if you tried."

Molly and Arthur stood in silence for a long time, neither moving a muscle. George and I held our breaths, awaiting our fate. Molly and Arthur exchanged a quiet glance. It was as if they had just realized how helpless they were in this situation, how impossible it would be to control our feelings and actions. And for a moment, only a moment, they seemed as if they were looking into the past.

"Your bedroom doors will always remain open," said Molly, finally. "I will have no public displays of affection while you're living under this roof – or private ones for that matter. Understood?"

"Yes," we said in unison.

"We need time," said Arthur thoughtfully. "Please understand how difficult this is for us to process right now. I have had my suspicions, but thinking and seeing are two very different things."

"Of course," said George.

"You will be punished for ignoring your curfews and for sneaking out," said Molly, her face softening slightly. "Keep in your separate rooms until dinner, not a word. I don't want any trouble from either of you until you're on your way back to Hogwarts."

"Yes'm," we agreed.

Sirius strolled over to the dining room table and picked up two papers. He grinned and handed the _Witch Weekly_ to George and the _Daily Prophet_ to me.

"I bet a little light readings will make your sentences more bearable," said Sirius jested. "I mean, if I had access to _Witch Weekly_ then I never would have left Azkaban. You may have made it to the front page of _Witch Weekly_, but you only made it to page 6 of the _Prophet_. However, yours truly had a mention in your absence."

I smirked curiously at him, peeking down at the newspaper. Cornelius Fudge was on the front page, looking rather distressed thought appearing desperately to keep it together.

_Mass Breakout_

_No fewer than ten prisoners have fled Azkaban in the largest successful escape attempt in history. To date, Bellatrix Lestrange and Augustus Rookwood are the only two confirmed names publicly announced. The names of the other eight escapees are slowly being released by Ministry officials. Little is known about the breakout, but speculations have already began to surface. _

"_We have confirmed that ten high-security prisoners, in the early hours of yesterday evening, did escape. And of course, the Muggle Prime Minister has been alerted to the danger. We strongly suspect that the breakout was engineered by a man with personal experience in escaping from Azkaban; notorious mass murderer Sirius Black, cousin of the escapee Bellatrix Lestrange," according to Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge._

"George, look," I breathed, handing him front page. I began to tremble uncontrollably again, clutching my gaping mouth. I took a couple steps backwards and used the wall to keep my knees from buckling. What I saw was real.

"Winnie, what's wrong?" asked Molly, her voice concerned and no longer filled with anger.

Sirius strode forward and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me against him. He tilted my chin, so I had to look him in the eye. My bottom lip was quivering, and I couldn't speak. He reached around and pressed my head against him, peering over at the equally startled George who had just let the _Daily Prophet_ slip from his hands and on to the floor.

"Son, what on earth is it?" asked Arthur.

"Well, the good news is that me snogging Winnie shouldn't be the scariest thing you read on the front page anymore," said George, raising his arms over his head and gripped his shaggy red hair. He released a heavy breath and pulled me from Sirius's arms and into his own with some difficulty. He kissed the top of my head and swayed me soothingly from side-to-side. He whispered in my ear, "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

"I'm not scared for me," I breathed. "I'm scared for you."

A few hours later I found myself sipping hot tea at the head of the table surrounded by all the current members of the Order. My face had been washed clean of all my raccoon makeup and freed from the leather-bound constraints of my dress. I sat like a terrified child, shivering under a messy bun of hair, enormous pajamas and a thick blanket. Fred and George sat on either side of me, looking unsure and uneasy. Sirius paced the room like a caged animal.

"Tell us one more time, Winnie," said Lupin soothingly.

"It's like I've told you a hundred times," I sighed, trying to set down my teacup without chattering it against my plate. "The storm woke me up. I looked out the window and I saw _him_."

"You're positive he saw you?" asked Tonks.

"Yes, he bloody saw me," I snapped. "He was watching me, stalking me."

"And you're absolutely certain it was him?" asked Lupin, unfazed by my outburst.

"What kind of stupid question is that, Remus?" Sirius retorted, slamming down his goblet. "Do you think she would ever forget that face?"

Remus was unfazed by Sirius's angry reply. He kept his eyes on me, very calm and very unmoved. He walked around behind me and placed a kind hand on my shoulder for just a moment. It was a silent apology of sorts. Molly and Arthur sat very close, exchanging worried glances every few minutes. No one else spoke for what felt like an eternity. Finally, Molly piped up.

"She can't go back to school," she said suddenly. "She'll be safest here."

"Let's not be rash, Molly," said Dumbledore, sipping his cup of tea. "There is no place more safe for Miss McKinnon to be than Hogwarts."

"If Harry is allowed to return to Hogwarts then Winnie should be too," said Sirius. "It would raise too many red flags if we start plucking the children of Order members out of school one-by-one."

"He's right," said Snape in his low, lifeless droll, "begrudgingly so. Everyone must go on as if it's business as usual."

"But it's not business as usual, not anymore," said Molly.

"The illusion or normalcy is what is most important," said Cassandra slowly, looking over at Molly with an understanding expression. "Of course nothing is the same anymore."

"But–"

"I think it has been a long twenty-four hours for many of us," said Dumbledore. "Let's allow Miss McKinnon and everyone else to rest their eyes for a little while. We will continue to discuss this issue after dinner as a more intimate group."

"I think some sleep could do wonders," Cassandra agreed.

"Miss McKinnon, I would like to speak with you in private this evening along with your grandmother," said Dumbledore. "It is in regard to your ability, with your guardians' permission of course."

"As long as she is not put through anything strenuous," said Arthur, looking to Molly for a moment. "Winnie has had a rough go."

"Certainly," nodded Dumbledore.

–

I fell back on my bed, crossing my arms over my head. It was no more than a minute before Fred, George, Ginny, and Hermione surrounded me. I slowly sat up and crossed my legs, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. All of them looked as if they had a thousand questions but no idea how to ask a single one.

"You're sure of what you saw?" asked Ginny. "Absolutely positive?"

"Yes," I frowned. "I'm positive."

"If it was really Travers in the window then why didn't he come inside?" asked Hermione. "It would have been the perfect opportunity for him to harm you."

"If he would have killed me right after he escaped then everyone would know it was him," I said. "That group of escapees will have their faces posted everywhere, but he'd be on the most wanted list before all the others. Travers also is the kind of hunter who likes to play with his food before he kills his prey. What better way to torture me than haunt me in the flesh?"

"The Order won't let anything happen to you," said Fred. "We'll protect you."

"I'm not afraid for me," I frowned. "Travers collects lives like trading cards. He finds a person to prey on and then kills everyone that person cares about just before killing them himself. I'm scared he's going to come after all of you."

"It's different this time," said George, rubbing my back. "We know what Travers is capable of, and we won't let him hurt any of us."

"You can't promise that," I said, falling onto my side and resting my head on the pillow. "No one can."

–

When I walked into the dust-filled drawing room Cassandra and Leo were not the only visitors I came across. Dumbledore was seated beside her, a gentle smile upon his aging face. The duo sat on one side of the uneven old desk while an open chair sat across from them. Cassandra nodded for me to close the doors behind me and take a seat. I did not expect Dumbledore to be present, and I was almost unnerved to see him in private again. Usually when Dumbledore and I had private conversations they were life changing. I sent him a fleeting grin and slid myself in the chair across from the two.

"Good evening, Miss McKinnon," said Dumbledore.

"Good evening, sir," I replied, my hands tightly laced upon my lap.

"I am certain you are wondering why exactly I have joined you and Cassandra for your session," he said.

"Frankly, yes, sir," I said. "Is something wrong? Am I in trouble?"

"Everything is fine. I assure you," he said, only somewhat calming my nerves. "I merely wanted to see how your ability is developing. I know Molly is still forbidding your participation in the Order's affairs, but I am confident that she would not be too terribly perturbed for me to meet with you for an update."

"Sir, it doesn't take a Seer to know that's a lie," I smirked, "but my lips are sealed if yours are."

He grinned and sent me a friendly wink.

"I already informed Albus that you have been progressing exceptionally well," said Cassandra, nodding to Dumbledore, "but he wanted to see for himself. I know this isn't exactly the best time considering your recent incident, but Albus insisted."

"It's alright," I said quietly.

"How do you feel about your capabilities with your power, Winifred?" asked Dumbledore.

"Um, I guess I'm doing pretty well," I shrugged. "I don't really have anything to compare it to though. I mean, Cassandra has taught me everything she knows, but Sight isn't really something you can just teach – I've come to find out. She's taught me more than Professor Trelawney ever did about readings, tea leaves, Astrology and all that stuff, but I have always been knowledgeable on those subjects just by nature. I am not completely confident in anything I can do besides mindreading – yet. If I concentrate when I touch another person's skin then I know I will be able to see into their head. Visions – the real bread and butter of my ability – are what I am weakest at."

"Winnie, you are doing so well managing your visions," Cassandra objected. "They are so accurate."

"It's not that I don't have confidence in their accuracy, but I struggle controlling them," I said. "I never know when one is coming, and no matter how hard I try to prepare myself for them – I can't. I feel like they're getting stronger, and I am growing less and less able to control them. I wish that I could feel one coming on then just excuse myself to somewhere private where I can meditate with one. However, in reality the visions become so overpowering that my body goes haywire trying to compensate. In the beginning, I would only have them in my sleep then they progressed to causing me to become ill or light headed or even fainting all together. Now, I can have visions that cause my ears and nose to bleed, and make my body go completely limp."

"I went through the same thing, child," said Cassandra. "Your body will eventually adjust, and you will be able to have more control over them."

"I hope so," I sighed.

"I'd like to see you in action if I could," said Dumbledore. "Are you comfortable with that?"

"Yes, sir," I nodded. "What would you like to see me do?"

"I'd like you to see you read my mind, use your crystal ball, tarot cards, tea leaves and anything else your grandmother suggests," he replied.

"Certainly," I replied. "I will just need your hand."

Dumbledore extended his hand, and I took it into my palm. I cleared my mind and focused on my task at hand. I placed my other hand atop of Dumbledore's and instantly felt my body grow rigid and my head snap back. Instead of seeing into Dumbledore's mind nothing happened. It felt the same as if I was just looking into the current thought across his mind but nothing happened. I felt paralyzed for a moment then re-opened my eyes.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what happened," I said.

It was then that I tasted a sickening familiar taste – blood. I swallowed hard and felt my lips and saw a couple droplets remained on my fingertips. Worse, I noticed that both my nose and my ears had followed suit. I most inelegantly tried to wipe away the mess I had involuntarily created upon my face with the back of my sleeve. When I finally looked over onto Cassandra and Dumbledore both of them stared wide-eyed and silent at me almost in horror.

"I'm so sorry," I apologized. "You see, sometimes this happens. It's disgusting, and I didn't even have a vision this time. Here, let me try again."

But Dumbledore jerked back his wrinkled hand before I could grasp it as if he were afraid of my touch. He looked down at his fingers and massaged his knuckles in an odd fashion. Cassandra continued to stare at me in shock.

"I can skip your reading and go straight into looking into my crystal–"

"That will not be necessary," said Dumbledore in a quiet voice that was unrecognizable. "You have proven yourself to be more than capable."

"But, sir, I didn't get to show you anything–"

"You showed me more than enough," he whispered. "You are excused. I would like to speak to Cassandra alone."

"But I–"

"Now, Winifred!" Cassandra shouted erratically.

I jumped from my seat and rushed out into the hall, glancing back only to see Cassandra turned and affectionately placing her hand on Dumbledore's cheek as he continued to massage his hand. I don't know what had just happened, but I was hoping it wouldn't be too terribly long before I found out.

–

_**A/N: **__So it has been far too long since I updated. I am so sorry. I have been so wrapped up in work and life in general that I haven't had the time for anything. I refuse to give up on this story. Winnie is my favorite OC that I have ever written. I would never forget about her story, and I would never forget about all of you. Thank you for sticking with me and reading this story. I write for fun, and I appreciate your inspiration and support more than you know. That being said, if you have a Harry Potter FF that you would like me to check out – please recommend it to me. I promise to give it a read and maybe even promote it on my site or at the end of one of my chapters. I love you all and thank you again._

_**PS: **__One reader made a comment in the review section that my lack of updates also shows a lack of commitment to my story and characters. Well, I have to admit that I have more of a commitment to my full time job, grad school and my family. Writing is what I enjoy, and I do so when I can. Just because I don't update regularly does not mean I do not treasure my readers – I do. I appreciate all of you so very much. Please do not ever think otherwise. _

_**PSS: **__Please excuse typos for now. I needed to get this out before I went to bed. I also apologize of this isn't up to par with my usual submissions. I wrote a majority of it a while ago, and I've struggled filling in the rest. I promise the next chapter will come sooner rather than later, and I swear it'll be of more substance._

_**PSSS: **__Shout outs will really return next chapter:)_

–

_**Review.**_


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